Dead and Mourning
by ColfaxBella
Summary: Post Dead & Gone. Sookie and Amelia head to Tray's funeral.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out to play dress up.

Dead in the Morning

It was time to go. I took one last glance in the mirror to confirm that my long-sleeved black wrap-around dress covered the nastiest scabs of my still-healing wounds, before cautiously joining Amelia on the front porch. Alcide had promised to send a car to take us to Tray's funereal. He knew that neither Amelia nor I was in any state to drive. When the sleek town car pulled to a stop in front of the house, neither one of us made any move towards it. Confused, the driver got out and opened the back passenger door and gestured for us to get in. Amelia shuddered. Afraid to intrude on my friend's grief --- and more honestly, afraid to learn how much blame Amelia placed on me --- I gently took the mourning witch's hand in mine and led her to the car. It was taking all of my concentration to maintain my shields to protect the privacy of Amelia's thoughts. Of all the things that I owed Amelia, privacy was the least of them.

It was quiet in the car. Amelia seemed to sit as far away from me as possible. Her stillness was interrupted every few minutes when she brought a shaking hand up to wipe away an errant tear. She stared out the window. Lost.

I struggled to keep my nature in check, to keep my shields in place. I didn't want to know what Amelia thought of me. Despite the grimness of our errand, the sun shone brightly in the Louisiana morning. It was 10:30 and Tray's service began at 11. As the car made its way to the Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, I stared out the window at the passing streets of my beloved hometown.

For as long as I could remember, I loved Bon Temps. I loved its haphazard blend of historic architecture and homes that were cobbled together over the last century, expanded with the purpose of making room for a growing family, much like my familiar homestead. The trees on the route to the Church seemed to bow with the gravity of the day, burdened with the morning's dew still lingering on their leaves, heavy and still. The air was so humid that I was glad my hair was carefully pinned into a chignon. For some reason, it was important that my hair was under control.

I've been struggling with trying to resolve the after-effects of the Fairy War, including how to think of it at all. To me, it was more than a war. It was the day I lost my family, or what was left of my family. Claudine, dead, along with the child in her womb. Niall was dead to me, closed off in the Fae world. I still hadn't heard from Claude, but I couldn't imagine him choosing to stay, when nothing was left here that he truly loved. I didn't just lose my fairy family that night. The earthly family I'd chosen had suffered great losses. Tray. Even Clancy gave his life trying to save mine, despite his clear disdain for the task. And Bill. Driving away from the hospital that night Bill was as close to finally dead as I could have ever imagined. The spark of magic in him that kept him "alive" was nearly out. Yet he'd gladly risked his immortality to rescue me. And Eric. Well. Eric hadn't…But he had. But he didn't come. But he did. Well, Eric. I guess. Rather than continue thinking about Eric, I once again looked out the window to stare at the passing sights.

As we drew closer to the Church, Amelia turned to me, paused, and looked away. Unable to quell my curiosity, I lowered my shields and listened in.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out to play dress up.

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The Funeral

Amelia's thoughts came crashing into my head like a jack-hammer that had escaped the control of its operator. Though her body was still and she stared forlornly out the car window, her thoughts jumped constantly.

_I don't want to leave. I can't look Sookie in the eye. Why do I keep remembering how it felt to have Tray's arms around me? Safe. He made me feel so safe. I wonder if this is how love feels? His wife. What am I going to say to his wife? Did she know about me? Oh, his poor son. My Dad may be a manipulative, greedy jerk, but at least he's still alive. How could Sookie have done this? Stop. It's not Sookie's fault. But it is. I can't stay here anymore. But I love my rooms, I love our home, I love my job…I love Sookie. She feels like family to me. Will I ever be able to look at her without anger? Without sadness? She's been so quiet around me, like she's afraid to talk to me. What if we just talked? But how do we start? How can we go back to how we were? I don't know if I can do this. Oh, this reminds me of you Mom. I miss you so much. Why did you leave me? I can't do this, I feel like I'm suffocating. Oh God, we're almost there. I can't do this. I can't do this._

Without thinking, I raised my shields and reached across the car and took Amelia's hand in mine. She'd been so lost in her jumble of thoughts that my touch startled her and she looked me in the eye for the first time in days. Without speaking, I gently squeezed her hand just as the car began to slow. I didn't have time to process how I felt about the thoughts I'd heard in Amelia's head. The car stopped. We had arrived.

In the moments it took for our driver to open and close his door, our shared stillness was broken. The instant the driver opened Amelia's door, she dropped my hand and practically jumped out of the car. Rather than wait on the driver, I opened my own door and stepped out of the car, blinking at the sudden brightness of the morning light. The Church's parking lot was full.

I followed behind Amelia as she slowly approached the large double doors that formed the entrance to the Church. I'd never been in the Catholic Church before, so I wasn't sure what to expect. The building was constructed of simple tan brick. Two large stained glass windows depicting Jesus surrounded by angels formed a colorful arch above the entry doors. My breathing hitched as I saw the angels and thought of Claudine. Somehow my feet propelled me through the open doors. Someone handed me a prayer card with Tray's picture, the date of his birth and the date of his death. Below Tray's picture was a prayer.

I was so distracted, I nearly ran into Amelia's back when she stopped to sign the book that was placed to the right of, oh God, Tray's closed coffin. Within that glossy wooden box, adorned simply with a large picture of Tray holding his son and a bouquet of crisp, white lilies, were the earthly, battle scarred remains of the man my best friend may have loved.

After signing her name, Amelia slowly turned to her left to face the casket. She took a few steps forward, placed her right hand on the glossy wood and stiffened. Silent tears began to stream down her face as she stood, unmoving. Other mourners signed the book, quietly paid their respects and moved from the entryway into the Church. I too wanted to pay my respects, to have a moment with Tray, but I knew it would be so selfish, so wrong, to invade Amelia's private moment. It was my fault that we were here today.

A group of large men in ill-fitting suits began to approach the casket. Within a moment, Alcide joined them and turned to me. "Sookie. It's time. We need to get ready to bring Tray in." He silently gestured that I needed to bring Amelia inside.

I approached Amelia and took her right hand in mine. Nodding her head, she let me lead her to the doors that opened to the Church. As we walked through, a woman standing with a young boy who was the image of Tray said softly, "Thank you for coming."

I didn't know what to say. How can you tell a mother that you're so sorry that your insane, bloodthirsty, supernatural relatives murdered her son's father while he fought to the last breath in your defense? I'm sorry for your loss doesn't seem to cut it. Do you ask for her forgiveness? Is forgiveness even possible? The anger I've been feeling for days, mixed with my self-loathing and threatened to overwhelm me completely. Keeping my facial expression fixed on grief, I solemnly nodded to Tray's ex-wife and son and followed Amelia to our pew.

From our pew in the back of the Church, it was easy to see how many people Tray had touched in his short life. The small Church was crowded with mourners. I recognized members of the Shreveport Pack, the Jackson Pack, the Hotshot Pack, men who proudly wore their motorcycle jackets and vests in homage to Tray's skill with a wrench, regulars from Merlotte's who had seen Tray's reveal, and so many other sad faces. Holly and Hoyt sat a few rows over from Sam. Calvin Norris and Tanya were a few rows in front of me and Amelia. I didn't see Jason.

A pretty young woman with straight brown hair made her way to a piano set off to the left side of the altar. Once she received her cue from the priest standing solemnly at the back of the church she began to play. Everyone stood, and shaky voices began so sing Amazing Grace. Even though I can't carry a tune, I've always loved this song.

_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,  
That saved a wretch like me.  
I once was lost but now am found,  
Was blind, but now I see._

The Catholic rites were unfamiliar, but not entirely foreign. I didn't hear much of the service. It was taking all of my concentration to block out the private mourning of so many people. We stood, we sat, we knelt. We prayed. I prayed.

As the priest talked about Tray being reborn in the Kingdom of Heaven, my mind wandered. My body ached to be reborn, to start again. To never have taken life and to never have had others give their lives to save mine. For Chrystal and her baby to have lived. For Claudine, oh Claudine. I could feel hot tears start to stream down my face. I bowed my head and wished my hair were down so that it could cover my face. Trying to focus, I stared at the prayer card one of the ushers had handed me at the door. The prayer Tray's family had chosen was Psalm 23, Shepherd Me Oh God. I kept reading the words over and over, trying to find some solace, some meaning. I'm a Christian, although most of the time I don't seem to be a very good one. The simple prayer brought up so much to me. One of the lines kept drawing my eye. It read "You have set me a banquet of love in the face of hatred, crowning me with love, beyond my pow'r to hold." Images of all those who have loved me and loved me so fiercely they stood to defend my life, regardless of the harm that could befall them, flooded my vision. Gran, Niall, Claudine, Tray, Clancy, Pam, Sam, Bill. Amelia has stood by me and loved me like a sister. Calvin, Alcide and even Quinn loved me in their way.

And then there was Eric.

I was surrounded by love. But those who loved me always ended up dead or hurt. But I was loved. All my life, I'd know the love of my Gran and Jason in his way. Until Amelia, I'd never had a true friend. Once I'd stepped into the supernatural world, the circle of people who loved me grew and grew, but at what cost? Do normal people who live normal, full lives, experience this much loss? Does it feel new to me because I really started living for the first time the night I met Bill? In my childhood fantasies of true love, I never gave a thought to the pain that comes with loving. If I were being honest with myself, I think I projected those childhood fantasies on Bill and approached our relationship with the love of a child. I've found my peace with Bill. I physically ache when I think of the look in his eyes as he stood, swaying on his feet, weak from the silver poisoning, ready to meet his final death in order to purchase for me a few more moments of life.

And then there was Eric. I knew that I needed to think about my feelings for him and to understand him beyond our bond. Amelia's hand reaching for mine pulled me out of my self-reflection. Meeting her eyes, we stood and watched the pallbearers roll Tray's casket out of the Church while his friends sang "On Eagle's Wings."

As the Church doors opened, I could hear chants dripping with anger and hate. Without thinking, I lowered my shields and was bombarded by the nastiest, snarled thoughts I'd ever heard.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. It really made my day. This is my first attempt at writing fiction and your encouragement, ideas and constructive criticism are invaluable. Thank you!!!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out for chocolate peanut butter ice cream sandwiches.

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The Burial

Angry voices spewing hate combined with the dark thoughts behind the words crashed my ears and clouded my mind the instant the Church doors opened. Everyone in the Church turned to face the doors as the shouts of hate grew louder. The snarled thoughts of maybe fifteen or twenty men and women projected their disgust of weres, their fear of supes and their loathing for yet more creatures they didn't understand.

Amelia and I looked at each other and without a word raced to the Church doors. The pallbearers were being blocked from exiting the Church by a group of angry men and women shouting and holding terrible signs. Just beyond the crowded doorway, I could see a withered old man in a black suit holding a bullhorn. His eyes were so dark and menacing, they seemed nearly black. As his frail looking hand raised the bullhorn to his mouth, his stare seemed to penetrate right through me. Without thinking, I closed my eyes and searched out this mind.

_Abominations. Burn. We must cleanse the earth of these demons and their spawn. They are unclean. Diseased mongrels. I will watch you burn. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die…._

I opened my eyes with horror, just as his gravelly voice cackled through the bullhorn.

"We are the Guardians of Light. We know the Truth of the evil of this man you mourn in your weakness. He was the spawn of Satan and we celebrate his death. You whose bodies change from God's image to that of Satan's beasts be warned: We will not tolerate your diseased souls slithering on this earth any longer. Cleansing fires will rain down upon you and those who debase themselves with you. You will know our mark and feel our wrath." With that, he turned, flanked by his followers and slowly walked toward four black SUVs waiting with running engines at the curb.

One of the pallbearers, a Were I hadn't met, shouted, "Screw you asshole! How dare you spread your hate in this place. This is a funeral. Have some respect!" Alcide came behind the angry Were and placed a calming hand on the younger man's back. Like a good leader, Alcide stepped to the front of Tray's casket and gestured for the pallbearers to return to their places. Once the four SUVs bearing the creepy old man and his sycophantic (Word of the Day) followers pulled out of the parking lot, Alcide gestured for the pallbearers to return to their task of escorting Tray's coffin to the waiting hearse.

As we slipped outside and made our way to our waiting car on the far side of the parking lot, Amelia whispered, "Who was that guy?"

"I don't know. He never thought his name. All of his thoughts were like his words. He was consumed with hate and he kept flashing images of fire and chanting 'Die, Die, Die.' It was terrible. I've never heard someone who wanted all of us to die before. It seemed like he didn't care who died, and that all of us in the Church were somehow marked for death, but I didn't pick up anything specific."

"You don't think there's anything we should be worried about, do you? Do you think they're part of the Fellowship?"

"I don't know Amelia. I didn't pick up anything about the Fellowship, but it seemed to me like he was even more extreme than those guys Arlene's been running with." Arlene. My former friend, who probably never really was my friend, was still sitting in jail, I hoped. "I don't know. Maybe I could call Andy and have him check them out, but I don't have anything specific to tell him."

As we reached the car, Amelia's voice brought me out of my thoughts of Andy and Arlene. "I just can't believe that people would show up at a funeral like that. Really, who does that? Tray was such a good man. He didn't deserve that at all." Amelia's voice had started strong, but began to falter as soon as she started to talk about Tray. She slid into the backseat and I joined her from the other side. We put on our seat belts and started talking at the same time.

"Sookie…"

"Amelia…"

We both said, "You first." And we giggled, just a little. A tiny spark of life between us.

Looking me in the eyes, Amelia took a deep breath and said, "Sookie, you're my best friend, my real family … my sister, and I don't want to lose you. But," she paused, "it's going to take some time. I want things to go back to how they were, but we can't pretend that none of this happened."

"Amelia…"

"Wait Sookie. Let me finish. I've been trying to think of how to say this for days now. I just need to get through it. Sookie, I don't blame you for Tray dying. God help me I wanted to blame you. I wanted to pour out all of my anger and sadness and lay it with blame at your feet, but I can't. I don't blame you Sookie. But I'm angry and I'm lost and I…I think I need to go to New Orleans, just for a while. I need to try and reconnect with my Dad and I need to spend some time with Octavia."

The thought of losing Amelia too caused tears to spring to my eyes. "Amelia, please don't go..."

She cut me off and grabbed my hand. "I'm not leaving you forever. I love living with you. I love my rooms and I love my little job. I even like filling in at Merlotte's. I just need a little break, some time to think."

I looked into Amelia's eyes and saw the truth of her words. I squeezed her hand and said, "You'll always have a place with me. When are you leaving?"

She looked down briefly before saying, "I'm already packed. I'll leave once we get home from the burial. I won't be gone long. I promise. Maybe only a week. You won't even have time to miss me. Besides, we'll talk every day, or at least I'll send you a text to let you know what I'm up to. Octavia's promised to teach me some advanced wards, so I'll be coming home with some news skills."

"As long as you don't bring home any more man-cats, I think it'll be fine. I'll miss you terribly, but I know why you need to go. Honestly, I probably could use the time alone too. I've got a lot to work through myself." My thoughts immediately shifted to Eric.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence as the driver pulled the car into the processional line that would follow the hearse to the cemetery. The last time I'd done this, we'd buried Gran. We were about ten cars back from the hearse, and a line of cars with their headlights blazing was beginning to form behind us. After about 10 minutes, two motorcycle officers rode past and took their positions before the hearse. All of the cars started their engines and we began to move forward.

That's when all hell broke loose. I don't know what came first, the sound, the balls of fire, the rumbling that shook our car and shattered the windows. Before I crouched down in fear, I think I saw the hearse explode, sending shockwaves into all of the cars before and behind us. It was Rhodes all over again, but this time, Amelia's screams joined with my own.

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reviewing, adding this story to your favorites or alerts. It really motivated me to keep going. I had a hard time writing this chapter, so I'll be interested to see what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out to run in the street, chasing the ice cream truck as it trundles down the block.

When I was writing this, I was listening to the album Far by Regina Spektor. Two songs in particular set the mood: "Laughing with" and "Eet." If you haven't heard them yet, find them on youtube (I can't figure out how to make links work here).

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Aftermath

Everything was happening at once. All of my senses were overpowered. I could hear the crackling of flames, people beginning to scream, Amelia screaming. Smoke from the flames that streamed out of the cars in front of us burned my nose and throat. In horror, I realized that the smell surrounding me was familiar. It was the smell of fire and shredded metal and concrete and the smell of burning flesh. Death was in the air. I could taste it. The panic and pain of the people surrounding me pushed through my flimsy shield and gripped me with their terror. I don't know how long I sat crouched behind the seat in front of me. As I tried to force order on the sensory inputs streaming into my consciousness, I found that my left hand was frantically trying to find and grasp Amelia, any part of Amelia. I blindly gripped her shoulder and turned my face to her.

In relief, I quickly processed that she was seemingly physically fine. I didn't see any blood, other than that caused by tiny cuts on her arms from the window glass that had poured over her. Feeling fresh drops of blood on my own arms and neck, I knew I must look the same. We were lucky. Amelia's frightened eyes sought mine and begged for guidance. I guess I was the expert in these situations. Before I could speak, the car doors were flung open and strong arms were pulling me away from Amelia. Not realizing who was pulling me from the car, I struggled and saw that Amelia too was being pulled from the door nearest her.

"Sookie!" a familiar man's voice shouted my name over the din of screams and fire that had almost become background noise. I turned and was overwhelmed with relief. Sam was pulling me from the car. Once I was standing, I looked over the scarred remains of the roof of the car to see our driver pulling a dazed Amelia to safety.

Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around Sam and inhaled his familiar scent. It was like breathing from an oxygen mask. His woodsy, masculine scent woke me from my shock. "Oh Sam. Thank God you're ok. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too." For just one moment, Sam wrapped his strong arms around me and held on for all he was worth.

He kissed the top of my head and said, "Sookie, I need to get you away from the cars. It's not safe." He began pulling me back towards the green Church lawn, that seemed like an oasis sheltered from the carnage of the parking lot. How could anything still be green and clean and beautiful after that explosion? Still numb and overwhelmed, I let Sam lead me to the lawn, to where Amelia half-stood half-leaned against our driver. I couldn't even remember his name. Not that it mattered. He was alive. Amelia was alive. Sam was alive.

Once he had safely guided me to the lawn, Sam leaned down and gently kissed my forehead. "Sookie, please, just stay here. Help is on the way. Please don't do anything dangerous." Then he began to walk away; I called out "Sam, what are you doing?"

Looking back over his shoulder, Sam replied, "I need to do what I can to help. There might still be people trapped in the cars that were ahead of you. Just stay there. Don't move!"

I started to follow him, but Amelia grabbed my hand and pulled me to her. Tears were streaming down her face and she was shaking. We wrapped our arms around each other tightly. All around us other survivors gathered on the lawn. People dressed in their funeral best were carrying others to the safety of the grass. It seemed like the injured were being grouped together and others were tending to them as best they could. White button down shirts were being shredded to create makeshift bandages. People were moaning. A young man threw off his suit coat and began CPR on an older woman in a flowered dress. Most of the screaming had stopped, replaced by the low murmur of tears, children with scorched lungs gasping for breath and the whimper of people nearing shock from pain.

I knew Sam wanted me to stay put, but if I could help save someone, I would. So while I held my shivering best friend in my arms, I closed my eyes and reached out my mind to try and find the thoughts of anyone who might still be alive, but trapped in one of the mangled cars. There were too many people on the lawn for me to be able to focus on the burning cars. I released Amelia. "Amelia. Stay here. I'm going to see if I can help." She nodded and squeezed my arms before I walked towards the carnage.

As I got closer to the sidewalk, I had a better view of the devastation wrought by what could only have been a bomb in the hearse. The once sleek, black vehicle meant to carry Tray's casket to the cemetery with dignity was reduced to an eerie empty metal frame supported by melted rubber, surrounded by shattered glass, twisted metal and flame. The bomb must have been placed toward the back, because the hood and the engine were structurally intact, though engulfed in flames. The car immediately behind the hearse looked almost like it too had held a bomb. It was on fire. The windows had been shattered in the blast and the front of the car looked like it had been in one of those crash tests you see on TV. Each successive car had lessening degrees of damage, mostly from broken windows, like our car. But the three cars directly behind the hearse were in flames. Few had open doors. I concentrated with all my might to scan the three most heavily damaged cars for signs of life. Even though I knew it was unlikely, I scanned the first car and found no brain waves I'd come to associate with life. Since the doors to that car were all still closed, my heart seemed to stop for a moment when I realized that it was likely that everyone in the car was dead. Drawing on my memories from Rhodes, I knew I needed to scan the second car; there was nothing I could do for the dead in the first. I concentrated with all my might on the second car and caught the faintest flicker of life. Before I knew what I was doing, my legs were propelling me towards the second car and I was shouting to Sam.

"Sam! Someone's alive in the second car. In the back seat, on the right. Sam! Sam!"

As I ran towards him, I saw Sam and another man race to the second car. It was engulfed in flames and I couldn't see how they could get anyone out alive. Sam had his jacket off to cover his face and hands as he pushed forward and tried to grip the handle of the car door. A jet of flames rose up and pushed Sam back. The other man managed to grip the handle and fling the car door open. I reached them just as Sam dove in to pull someone out of the car. In the moment Sam started to drag the writhing man away from the car the flames seemed to surge again and grow in intensity. The other man helped Sam drag the man they'd rescued to safety. I reached them moments later and couldn't hold back a scream. Lying on the Church parking lot's black asphalt, covered in blood and burned almost beyond recognition, was Alcide.

"Alcide!" I screamed. "No, no, no. Don't die Alcide. Don't die." I fell to my knees beside him and panic threatened to overwhelm me. So much unnecessary death, so much suffering. I couldn't bear to lose another friend, another member of my family. As I looked over Alcide's mutilated form, I could hear sirens approaching. I knew the familiar ring of the Bon Temps volunteer fire truck, and could tell it would be here in moments. Just behind the fire truck, I could hear the siren that could only be the one ambulance based in Bon Temps. Alcide was so injured I was terrified he wouldn't make it to the hospital, despite the quick healing power of Weres. His face and body were terribly burned and he seemed to be bleeding all over. I didn't know how to help. I felt so powerless, that all I could do was kneel by his side with tears selfishly running down my face. As I stared at Alcide, he seemed to slur my name through his burned and blistered lips. "Sssoookie..."

"I'm here Alcide. Just stay still. Help will be here in a minute. Don't talk. Save your strength. You're going to be fine trust me."

Alcide's eyes fluttered open and locked on mine. His eyebrows were gone and his eyelashes were singed. With my shields lowered, I stared into Alcide's eyes, trying to hear him.

"_Sookie. This is bad" _he thought at me. _"I don't think I'm going to make it. If I don't, I want you to know that I.."_

"You just stop thinking those bad thoughts Alcide Hevereaux. You are strong and kind and good and you're the Packmaster. You will be fine." I spoke with more determination than I felt, but I couldn't stand the thought of losing him.

"_Sookie. I know that you saved me. I thought no one would know I was still alive in there. I couldn't get the door to open. You saved me from burning to death. If I can die looking into your eyes, looking at a beautiful woman, well, I can't complain about that…." _

With those ridiculous thoughts, Alcide slipped into unconsciousness, just as the ambulance arrived. Once the professionals were on the scene, things moved quickly. Since he was the most injured, Alcide was swiftly loaded into the ambulance and it squealed away towards the hospital. I prayed that Alcide would hang on. As I watched the ambulance veer off, two warm hands gripped my shoulders from behind.

"Chere, let me take you back to Amelia. There's nothing else you can do here."

In a daze, I let Sam, once again, guide me to safety. My breathing hitched as I realized that Sam was always there for me, was always looking to make sure I was safe. I may have lost Claudine, but I knew I still had a guardian angel here on earth. With his warm hand on the small of my back, Sam gently guided me back onto the Church lawn.

My eyes searched the crowd gathered on the lawn for Amelia. I found her sitting slightly apart from the crowd, her face in her hands, sobbing softly. In silence, I moved to her side and sat down, putting my arm around her shoulders. She turned her head and began crying into my shoulder as I watched Catfish Hunter, Ralph Tooten and the rest of the volunteer crew begin to douse the flames. A stillness seemed to envelop us, the survivors gathered on the Church lawn, as we watched water battle with flame. It was 2:00 in the afternoon.

As Amelia wept into my shoulder, as the flames began to dim and fade, I thought about love and acceptance. Until the night I met Bill and unwittingly joined the supernatural world, I'd loved in isolation. My Gran loved me. Jason loved me in his way. But for the rest of Bon Temps, I was Crazy Sookie. The freak with nice tits who made them uncomfortable and challenged their sense of order in the world. With each revelation of the Supe world, Crazy Sookie was still just crazy. Even in a world with vamps and weres, my neighbors in Bon Temps would rather pretend that I'm a freak than to accept that, just like Sam or Bill, I'm a little different.

It shocked me to realize that only a few people have accepted all of who I am without question. I closed my eyes and saw their faces….Gran, Niall, Claudine, Claude, Sam, Amelia, Bill, Pam and Eric. Eric. In my mind, I saw his face as clearly as though I was looking at a photograph. His blue eyes looked back at me and in their depths I saw so much. Lust, power, strength, and the calm, cold calculation of a survivor. I am certain of some things. I know that Eric desires me and I desire him. His slightest touch makes my body sing. More times than I can count, he has kept me safe. Unwillingly, my mind shifted to the one time he'd failed me. Thinking of my torture threatened to suck me into the darkness that I'd been struggling for days to keep at bay. I squeezed my eyes tightly and tried to concentrate on what really mattered now: I needed to understand what had happened here today. I needed to know if Alcide was Ok. I needed to know who had died, because I knew for certain that whoever planted that bomb had succeeded in killing people in the car that we'd pulled Alcide from. Despite my attempt at concentrating, I couldn't help it when my thoughts shifted again to Eric. I needed to know if he loved me, the way that I knew that I loved him.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this to you. I struggled trying to shift from a week heavy with writing proposals for work to writing for fun.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out to run through the sprinklers on a hot summer day. *wipes sweat off brow*

Song for this Chapter: I'm still grooving on Regina Spektor. The song The Sword & The Pen definitely sets the mood…

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I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear Sam approach and sink softly onto his knees before us. Amelia noticed him first. I looked up as soon as I felt Amelia's head leave my shoulder. Sam's eyes were brimming with tears. I don't think I've ever seen him cry. I reached out and took his hand in mine, and whispered "What is it Sam, is it Alcide?"

The tears that had been gathering in his eyes began to fall as he shook his head 'no.' "I haven't heard about Alcide yet. But I still have terrible news. Melanie and Josh, Tray's wife and son….They were in the car directly behind the hearse."

His voice dropped off; he couldn't bring himself to say out loud what I knew. They were dead. Murdered before our very eyes, along with who knew how many others. This was too much for Amelia. She rose to her knees, covered her face with her hands and began to speak in anger, "fuck! What the fuck is going on? How could anyone do this? How could anyone kill a child? He'd already lost his Dad! How could he die shredded and burned behind his father's coffin? I can't take this! I can't take this! Fuck!" She began shaking again, and Sam pulled her to him, gently rubbing her back and swaying back and forth with her, almost as if he were comforting an infant. Amelia's always been a strong broadcaster, but in this moment, I could no longer read words in her mind. It wasn't quite images either, but almost like her emotions had taken a physical form and were pushing into me, a combination of rage, and grief and pain. Sam continued to rock Amelia and had begun whispering words of comfort into her ear. I couldn't bear to watch the two of them any longer. It's not that I was jealous, it was that Amelia's anguish was so raw, and Sam was so gentle with her…I wanted to give them privacy, even though we were surrounded by people. Their embrace, the honest and unguarded exchange of pain for comfort, was one of the most intimate moments I'd ever seen.

Knowing that Amelia was in good hands, I stood and wandered aimlessly towards the Church doors. The fires were out, and most of the survivors were huddled in small groups of two or three, whispering to each other, comforting each other with an embrace or a steady hand on a shoulder. I was surrounded by strangers reaching out to other strangers, connecting through shared relief at their own survival. I felt like an outsider, apart, other. I slowly made my way up the short flight of cement stairs that led to the large Church doors. Once again, I looked up at the stained glass window and ached for Claudine. Before the tears collecting in my eyes could fully release I hurried my pace and once again entered the now silent Catholic Church. As I slipped into a pew at the back of the Church, I realized I wasn't alone. Several of the other survivors were scattered throughout the Church. Some had their heads bowed in prayer, while others stared with unfocused eyes at the sculpture of Christ on the cross that hovered over the simple altar. We all sought some form of sanctuary.

I tried to relax my breathing and gently closed my eyes, letting my mind wander, reveling in the silence of the Church. I inhaled, and Gran's face formed before my eyes. I exhaled and recalled how her smile used to reach her eyes and twinkle a bit whenever she got to the best part of a romance novel. In an instant, Gran was gone, replaced by Claudine as I last saw her, glowing with new life, knitting quickly for a future that would never come. I prayed that God had made her an angel, since I assumed God had something to say about such things. Praying about Claudine reminded me of Bill's request on that awful night. Even though he hadn't met his final death, I didn't think he'd mind if I prayed for him today. So I asked God if he could speed along Bill's mending.

I kept concentrating on my breathing and soon my mind was quiet. I didn't fall asleep. Rather, I was absorbed by the stillness of my surroundings and my focus on slowly breathing in and breathing out. Minutes passed. I didn't move. I simply breathed. In the absence of other distractions, I became acutely aware of the bond I shared with Eric. Even in his daytime rest, I could feel him, a slight comforting little buzz that was always present, and had been since we exchanged blood in that dirty stairwell in Rhodes. Memories of all the times I'd been resentful of the bond passed before my eyes in a haze colored by my constant irritation at being forced to do things and at having decisions made without my input or consent. My subconscious pushed aside my irritation and halted on the one moment when I'd wanted nothing more than for Eric to hear me, to feel me through the bond. The one moment he'd utterly failed me. I ached with such overwhelming pain I almost cried out. The slideshow running through my brain shifted to a new image: Eric finding me in the hospital, and the tortured look in his eyes when I'd thrown Bill's rescue of me in his face with unmitigated rage. He'd flinched; my 1,000 year old vampire who'd stared death in the face and laughed through bloody battles had flinched at my _words_.

I returned my focus to my breathing, and tried to force the image of the look on Eric's face as he'd flinched away from me from my mind. But I couldn't. Like a twisted freeze-frame, I was forced to look at the anguish on his face; anguish that I didn't fully understand. I'd seen Eric twice since the end of the Fairy War. He'd seemed somewhat distant, but I thought he was mirroring my own distance. We'd sit in silence for a few moments before he'd ask how I was feeling and if there was anything I needed. Both nights, I'd told him I was healing and that I didn't need a thing, other than rest. Both nights, I'd turned my back to him, and had pretended to sleep. He'd remained, sitting in silence beside me for a while, before quietly leaving the room and disappearing into the night.

I opened my eyes. The pale blue carpet that covered the aisle between pews was alive with dancing colors. I looked up and back and realized that the late afternoon sun was streaming through the stained glass window. The colored glass that created the form of angels was projected like a purposeful prism, a rainbow flitting across the floor and the wood pews. I thought of Claudine and Niall. Niall's parting words to me, that the vampire loved me and was a good man, echoed in my head. In my heart, I knew he meant Eric. But what would that mean, for Eric, for a vampire to love me? I started to wonder if a vampire could really love, but then I stopped myself. The only human love I'd ever know was that of a grandmother, my parents and my brother. I didn't know what romantic love with a human felt like. But did I know what it felt like for a vampire to love me? In my heart, I think I knew that I did, but my mind seemed to want to argue with me.

Before I could finish arguing with myself, I heard someone approach me and stop just to my left. Without raising my head, I let my eyes slide to the left and saw dusty wingtips, blue socks and the polyester deep blue pants that were the signature fashion of the Bon Temps police department. As I looked up, Kevin leaned in and said in a low tone, "Sookie, I don't want to interrupt your prayers, but Andy's hoping to have a word with you." He gestured towards the door, and sure enough Detective Andy Bellefleur was standing at the entrance, notepad in hand, looking uncomfortable.

I knew immediately why Andy was uncomfortable. He was one of the Bon Temps denizens who knew exactly what my gift was, but preferred to pretend I didn't have it; unless he needed something from me. I checked my irritation, because Andy had not questioned me when I'd called to ask him for help the day that my so-called friend Arlene and her psycho Fellowship friends planned to kill me. Without hesitating, I stood and followed Kevin out of the Church to talk to Andy.

My eyes blinked as I stepped outside into the sunlight. "Hi Andy."

"Sookie, it's a terrible thing that happened here. You're not hurt?" Andy asked, but it was more like he was confirming something he already knew.

"No Andy, Amelia and I were really lucky." My eyes looked out over the wreckage. I closed them quickly and took a breath. I needed to keep it together. "What do you need Andy?"

"Well," he looked uncomfortable. Without meeting my eyes, Andy mumbled, "I was wondering if you knew anything about what happened today. I mean, did you _hear_ anything, that could help us?"

"Andy, I _heard_ the same things that every person who was at this funeral today heard. Just as the service ended, this crazy, angry old man and a group of people I'd never seen before blocked the doors, shouted at us and drove away."

"What specifically do you remember?"

"This creepy old man had a bullhorn, and he shouted through it that they were the Guardians of the Light and that the shifters and weres were something like the spawn of Satan and that they and people around them would burn. I guess he was right. I wouldn't be surprised if they did this. It was so weird, I tried to listen to him, you do know what I mean, right?" Andy nodded. "So when I looked in, he didn't think anything specific about a bomb, or hurting us here. He just kept thinking that he wanted us to all die. I guess he didn't entirely get his wish. Then, they just piled into these black SUVs and drove away."

Andy made some notes, nodded his head and finally looked me in the eye. "That's pretty much what everyone else remembers. If you think of anything else, or _hear_ anything else, give me a call." And with that, he turned and walked away.

Looking at my watch, I was surprised to realize that it was almost 5:00. I can't believe I'd been sitting in the Church for so long. It was probably the most private thinking time I'd had in months. I made my way back to where I'd last seen Sam and Amelia and found them sitting in silence on the grass. Amelia had her eyes closed and her head in Sam's lap. Sam was gently stroking her hair. She was asleep.

I crept up to Sam, and whispered, "Can you take us home? I just want to get out of here." Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. "Why don't you go get the truck and I'll carry Amelia in." I surveyed the parking lot and located Sam's truck. Luckily he was parked well outside of the blast range. I started up the truck, put it into gear and slowly made my way to where Sam stood on the sidewalk with Amelia in his arms. As I started to get out, Sam said, "you drive. There's not much room, so I'll just keep her in my lap."

With that, Sam worked his way into the truck with the sleeping Amelia in his arms. Once they were situated, I pulled out of the parking lot and began heading home. Since Amelia's rooms were upstairs and the stairs were toward the front of the house, I pulled Sam's truck into the front yard parking spot. I didn't want him to have to carry Amelia all the way in from the back. As he got Amelia out of the truck, I ran ahead to unlock and open the door. Sam passed me in silence and brought Amelia up to her room. As he came down the stairs, I offered him something to drink. He declined and we stood there in the door, a bit awkwardly.

"Sam. Thank you for taking care of Amelia. She really needed someone today. And thank you for pulling me out of the car. I know you're always looking out for me, and I want you to know how much I appreciate it. You're family to me. I love you."

Sam flushed a little, looked down and then smiled a bit. "Sookie, you know I only want the best for you, and for Amelia. I'll always be there for you." With that, he placed his hand on my cheek and gently caressed my cheekbone with his thumb. He exhaled, smiled, a little wanly, and walked slowly toward his truck.

I sat down on the porch swing and watched him drive away, just as the last red tendrils of sunlight relinquished their hold on the day. It was dusk. I curled my feet under me, and before I drifted off to sleep, I made one more request of God.

I was brought out of my dreamless sleep by the most beautiful sound in the world being whispered in my ear.

"Lover."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out for lemonade and lemon meringue cream pie, because lemons are yummy. ­­­­­­­­­­­­

I didn't want to open my eyes. I was afraid that I'd dreamed the word that had been gently whispered in my ear. I couldn't bear to open my eyes and find myself alone, curled up on my old porch swing in the cool, dark night. Keeping my eyes closed, I breathed in and used every sense but sight to take in my surroundings. I could hear the gentle creak of the ancient wood porch swing as it slowly rocked back and forth. The woods were still, but for the slight creak of the bare sweetgum tree branches that brushed against each other in the breeze. I should have been cold, but I was enveloped in warmth that smelled of home, and Gran and Eric. My hand moved slightly and I could feel the familiar fabric of Gran's afghan covering the flesh of my hand.

I opened my eyes.

The afghan was carefully wrapped around my entire body, tucked under my toes up to my shoulders. My legs were stretched out between Eric's, and my back rested against his chest. He was so tall that his knees were bent, with his feet resting on the armrest of the other side of the swing, my feet in between his. His right arm cradled me to him as his left lightly caressed me. His fingers traced the outline of my face with feathery-light movements, from my forehead to my cheek, with his thumb sweeping gently under my jaw before he traced the contours of my neck. He surrounded me.

I pulled my right arm from under the afghan and sought out his large right hand. I closed my eyes. I don't know how long we stayed like that, rocking slowly in the swing as he memorized the side of my face with his fingers and I simply held his hand.

He moved his face to my hair and breathed in deeply, taking all of me in, as both his arms and legs wrapped around me and drew me closer to him in a tight embrace. "Lover" he murmured as he exhaled and bent to place a soft, slow kiss just below my left earlobe. He lingered there, again breathing in deeply, as though he was trying to capture the essence of my scent with every inhale. "You came," I whispered.

"Of course." He continued kissing down the side of my neck, slowly, purposefully, his arms and legs still tight across my body. Each kiss awakened something in me, like I was being brought back to life, one inch of skin at a time. I knew we needed to talk, that we had so much to discuss, but for the life of me, I couldn't find the will to utter a word. I was lost in the sensations his talented lips were creating one moment at a time, slowly, up and down my neck, and I knew I wanted more. I wanted him to awaken every part of my body, to renew me, to make me feel alive the way that only he could. It had been so long since I'd felt his touch that I physically ached for it. Only he could make me feel something other than the dark pain that had been seeping into me for days, that had become more pronounced and overwhelming today.

I twisted my body so that I was laying on him, chest to chest. I snaked my arms around his back and gripped him to me as I rested my head at the base of his neck. As he began to place soft kisses on the top of my head, my forehead, my cheek, I pulled him tighter to me and began to caress the strong muscles in his back and reveled in the silky softness of his button down dark blue shirt. I rubbed my head against his neck, like a cat demanding attention and my hips rubbed against his. He hissed and drew me up so that we were face to face and I was straddling his lap, my knees on either side of his waist.

His eyes seemed to search my face as though looking for the answer to a question he couldn't remember asking but desperately wanted answered. I too searched his eyes, looking for my own answers, answers that were truly mine, and not the result of a mystical bond. He brought his right hand up to cup and hold my face and he traced the outline of my left cheek with his thumb, over and over, his eyes never straying from mine. When I looked into his eyes, I was drawn in so deeply, I was drowning in them. They seemed to dance in the yellow glow of the porch light. I saw so many things. Surprise, concern, desire, caution, hope, tenderness … and love. I had seen love in the eyes of my Gran so many times, you'd think I'd have learned to recognize it. But for the first time, I allowed myself to look with truly open eyes into his deep blue pools and I saw love reflected back at me. I saw _my_ Eric in this Eric's eyes. I was lost.

I pulled my arms from behind his back, placed my hands on his face, and mirrored his movements. We caressed each others faces and found the answers we'd been looking for in each others eyes. I felt my desire for him awakening as I leaned in, slowly, and placed my lips on his. As our lips met, it had all of the excitement of a first kiss, the kind of kiss you long for and dream about. As our lips parted and the kiss grew in intensity, I felt the warmth of my arousal begin to spread across my body. He drew me to him, holding me so close that every part of our bodies were touching. There was no distance between us. My breasts crushed into his chest and my legs stretched out to wrap around him. The porch swing creaked loudly and rocked with my sudden movement and we almost toppled out. He broke from the kiss, and raising an eyebrow with a leer asked, "bedroom?" I nodded yes and in a moment I was in his arms, still wrapped up in the afghan. We were about to cross the threshold and race to my room when I remembered Amelia (hopefully) sleeping upstairs.

"No. Amelia's inside. We can't do this to her." Eric growled, thinking I meant to stop his attentions. "Trust me, I don't want to stop, but I don't want to wake her," I said playfully and squeezed his ass. "Go around the house, to the back porch." Eric moved with vampire speed to carry me around the house. I couldn't help the squeal of delight that erupted from my lips as he flung open the door to the enclosed back porch and discovered the extra large cushioned chaise lounge I'd recently found at Wal-Mart. "Sookie, you never cease to amaze me," he said with laughter in his voice, as he gently laid me on the chaise, and lowered himself to lay on his side next to me.

His head rested lazily a throw pillow, but there was nothing lazy about the look in his eyes. I could feel his desire for me rolling off of him in waves. His fangs were down and he licked his lips. His right hand gripped the back of my neck and he pulled my face to his, crushing me with a kiss so masterful that my toes curled. I arched my head back and moaned with pleasure. He slowly and deliberately ran his fingers from the bottom of my ear, down my neck, to my shoulder, down my arm, brushing against my breast before coming to rest on my hip. Each part of me he touched came to life. It was like his fingertips buzzed with an energy that made my nerve endings scream for release. His eyes never left mine. He gripped my hip and began to rub his thumb in circles across my hip bone. Each touch sent waves of pleasure through me. His eyes never left mine as his hand found the tie that held my wrap dress in place. "I think this needs to come off," he said with a grin as he loosened the bow, and deftly unknotted the knot. With one hand.

I pulled him to me for another kiss and shuddered as my dress fell away. I started to unbutton his shirt, but he gently swatted my hands away. He crawled down to the end of the chaise, making sure to show me my favorite part of his body. I love this man's ass. He knelt before the edge of the chaise and took my right foot into his hands. He slowly massaged every inch of my nylon-clad foot and kissed every toe as his eager hands caressed up my leg to find the spot where my garter kept my hose in place. His skillful fingers relieved my hosiery from its captor and he slowly pulled it off, taking time to caress my bare skin with his fingers. I was writhing beneath him. His touch was driving me mad. He repeated this slow torture on my other leg, before crawling up my body to lift me and remove my dress.

He gazed down at me as though he was looking at me for the first time. In a sense, he was. Neave and Lochlan had marked me, and though I'd had Eric's blood, I was still healing. For a fleeting moment, I was embarrassed by the red scabs that covered so much of my body. Eric must have felt my embarrassment through the bond, because his eyes flashed briefly with anger and anguish. In an instant, he calmed himself and pulled me into his arms whispering, "You're beautiful. You've always been so beautiful. You're beautiful now. I've walked this earth for a thousand years, and I've never seen anyone as captivating as you. You are perfection and you are mine."

I was overwhelmed with the desire and love I felt coursing through the bond and pulsing from his touch. He brought his lips down on mine forcefully, with such passion that I trembled. He broke the kiss only to bite down and tear the lace of my bra from my breasts, exposing them to his eyes. He took them in his hands and whispered, "perfect." His hands caressed and molded my breasts as I arched my back to give him easier access. He leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth and suckled like an infant. He wasn't biting, just sucking and sweeping his tongue back and forth, sending vibrations of pleasure through my body. I couldn't stand that he was still dressed, so my hands reached to his shirt and clawed at his buttons. Without releasing my breast from his mouth he ripped his shirt, popping off the buttons to expose his chiseled chest. I pushed the fabric off of his shoulders and caressed his back with my hands. He moved his attentions to my other breast and I could not control the movement of my hips. He moaned and redoubled his efforts to pull my entire breast into his mouth. He was sucking so hard that it bordered on pain, but the pleasure it brought me was intense.

He licked his way up from my breasts to my neck to my chin, finally returning to capture my lips in his. As our tongues danced, I grasped at his belt, dying to release him from his jeans. He felt me struggling with the belt, and quickly provided exactly the assistance I was hoping for. In one movement he removed his jeans, somehow without releasing my lips. I was on fire. I traced my tongue around his fangs, memorizing their shape and feel. He moaned into me and gasped my name, "Sookie. Look at me."

I opened my eyes, though they were heavy with lust and stared again into his eyes. I don't think I'll ever tire of looking into them. With a wink, he buried his face in my breasts as his hands caressed my sides up and down. Again, I was writhing beneath him. I was beginning to ache with need. I was empty and needed to be filled. He began to lick slowly down my stomach, pausing only to place a wet kiss on my bellybutton as he continued his descent to the place I needed him to be. When he reached the lace of my last remnant of clothing he moved his tongue to my hip and slid it just under the fabric and licked from side to side, never delving lower. I gasped. I couldn't take this teasing. "Eric! Please!" I moved my hips from side to side, hoping to entice him lower. One hand reached up and began massaging my breast as the other followed his tongue, teasing the sensitive skin he'd uncovered. I lifted my hips, hoping he'd take the hint, but he used his free hand to press down on my stomach to keep me in place. He moved his head lower, but not low enough. He slipped his tongue under the fabric that wrapped around my left leg and licked from the side of my leg, slowly across the top of my thigh and down to my inner thigh. He took his hand from my stomach and used it to gently pry my legs apart. He moved to my other leg and repeated this torture, curling his tongue under the cloth and slowly licking from my hip across the top of my thigh down to my inner thigh. I was panting with desire and nearly overcome with need. I was on the edge of an orgasm, but he wouldn't let me find release.

He looked up and again captured my eyes with his. As he stared into my eyes, I could feel his hands begin to gently pull my thong and garters down. I was more than willing to assist, and lifted my hips off the chaise. He followed the lacy garmets down my body with his tongue, stopping to lick and nibble on the sensitive skin behind my knee. Once he'd removed them, he teasingly kissed his way up the other leg, again paying attention to the underside of my knee. I nearly screamed with pleasure. The sensations coursing through my body were electrifying.

Kneeling between my legs, Eric placed his hands on the top of my thighs and massaged them. Smiling, he asked, "Lover, are you wet for me? Are you ready to have me touch you?"

I was so turned on, I couldn't find words to speak. I groaned and whimpered and nodded my head and begged him with my eyes. "Lover, you must tell me what you want, or I won't know what to do. Don't you want me to please you? I won't know how unless you speak the words."

His teasing words increased my torment; I was so ready. "Eric, please, I want you to touch me. I need you to touch me now!"

"All you needed to do was ask," he said with a leer before throwing my knees over his shoulders and sliding his tongue between my folds. When he pulled my aching nub between his lips and began to suck I could feel my orgasm building. He slid first one then two fingers into me and massaged me and pulled my wet arousal out to meet his tongue as he groaned into me with pleasure. His groan of pleasure sent me over the edge and I was shaken from within by a powerful orgasm. His fingers coaxed me through it and prolonged my pleasure. But I wasn't yet fulfilled. I still was empty and aching for him.

"Eric, I need you now. I need you inside of me. I can't wait. Please now."

I didn't have to beg for long. He slid up my sweat soaked body and positioned his length at my entrance. I looked into his eyes as he slowly entered me. My body opened to him as he thrust deep inside and moaned. Just as slowly as he entered, he slowly pulled back. I could feel my insides contracting, trying to hold him in as he thrust into me again. My pleasure was building quickly; I could feel the hairs on my arms stand up as he entered me again and again. It was like every part of my body was alive and singing for him, because of him. His pace was building and I gripped his beautiful ass to pull him closer to me, deeper. I needed him as deep as he could go. With each thrust little moans escaped my lips and only heightened his desire for me. I knew I was close and I could tell he was too, when he dropped his head to my breast and bit. I screamed with pleasure as another orgasm ripped through me and sent me floating off the chaise. Eric came with me and shouted words I couldn't understand but I felt their meaning.

We didn't move. As we clung together, I closed my eyes and opened myself to my feelings. I knew that I was sated (word of the day!), and relaxed and thoroughly calm. When I felt Eric begin to stir, I opened my eyes. He smiled at me with such joy and happiness, that I knew, really knew, what I was feeling. I was feeling love.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out to play hopscotch. ­­­­­­­­­­­­

The song "The Sword & The Pen" by Regina Spektor has been inspiring my view of how Sookie feels about the Viking. Since not everyone has heard the song, I thought I'd share a few of the lyrics.

"The Sword & The Pen" by Regina Spektor

Don't let me get out of this kiss  
Don't let me say what I say  
The things that scare us today  
what if they happen someday  
Don't let me out of your arms  
For now

….  
I don't want to live without you  
I don't want to live without you

I must have fallen asleep. I awoke to the sensation of Eric's fingers gently playing with my hair. We were wrapped in the afghan on the chaise, legs entwined, facing each other. Eric was staring at me intently. For some reason, I wasn't ready to look him in the eyes, to have the conversation that I knew must come. I closed my eyes.

So many thoughts were racing through my mind, I couldn't focus. The events of the day flashed before my eyes. Once again, I'd been in danger. I suspected that Eric had felt my fear through our bond, even though he was in his daytime rest. Luckily he hadn't brought it up yet. Before I fell asleep on the porch after Sam got Amelia into bed, my last waking thoughts were about Eric, about how I wished he were with me.

I'd jumped into bed with him, once again seeking comfort and release without clearly thinking things through. I'd admitted to myself that I loved him, and just moments ago had felt convinced that he felt love for me. Yet, in the brief time I'd been dreamlessly asleep, I'd managed to allow the tiny piece of doubt that I'd buried in our shared pleasure to grow into a knot in my stomach that filled me with fear. What if Eric didn't have feelings for me? What if I was opening myself up again, only to be betrayed, abandoned? What if Eric _didn't_ betray or abandon me? What would that mean?

I felt the fear in my stomach grow.

Did I really want a relationship with Eric? Was such a thing possible? How would it work? To be with him means to live in darkness. Am I really willing to surrender my time in the sun? To give up on the idea of ever having children? What will I do when he tires of me? Or when someone more powerful than him makes him give me up to serve some other purpose? Even if Eric doesn't consider me his property, in his world I'll never be anything other than his human pet, to be bartered for whatever purpose others command. Even if they had to go through Eric to benefit from my _gift_, he would have power over me.

Small seeds of anger were starting mingle with the fear growing in the pit of my stomach. I darn well knew that I wouldn't be anyone's property and I wouldn't be forced to do anything I didn't want. I was sick and tired of being tossed about, manipulated and coerced.

Laying in my dead lover's arms, I felt fear, anger and an incredible loneliness creep over me. I was terrified of what being with this Eric, the real Eric, Sheriff of Area 5, would mean. If I was being honest with myself, I knew that trouble would find me, with or without Eric. Hell, I'd nearly been blown up today by humans. My relationship with Eric, or whatever it is, hadn't had anything to do with the horrors of Tray's funeral.

But I didn't feel like being honest with myself. And perhaps that's why I felt so alone. When Gran was alive, I'd like to think I would have talked with her about my feelings for Eric, and what it would mean for me to be in a relationship with him. She would have given me good advice. Not that he'd said he wanted a relationship with me, mind you. Oh no, I told myself, I'm skipping ahead ten steps and am assuming that he wants one. It's like my short-lived fantasy of being a member of Alcide's family.

Oh God, Alcide.

Thinking of Alcide as I last saw him, bleeding and burned, brought my troubled, selfish thoughts to a screeching halt. I realized I'd been having a mental pity party and was ashamed of myself. I didn't even know if Alcide was alive. Shame at my selfishness overwhelmed me. Guilt began to fill me as tears welled up in my eyes. I started to turn my body away from Eric's, as though facing the wall and curling into a ball would make it all go away, would make it possible for me to be consumed by my shame and guilt and fear and selfishness and to be finally alone.

But Eric wouldn't let me turn away from him. "Sookie, where are you lover? What's happened? One moment you're pulsing with happiness, and now, your feelings are changing so fast I can hardly keep up. What is wrong?" His hand cupped my face in his, keeping me from turning away.

Without opening my eyes, I whispered, "I don't know what's wrong with me. There's something so very wrong with me."

I could feel Eric sending reassuring calm through the bond, and I wanted nothing more than to rip it from me, just so I could feel _my_ feelings. "Stop it Eric. Quit trying to manipulate my feelings damn it!"

Eric stopped playing with my hair and released his hand's grasp on my face. I could feel his confusion and anger from the bond. The damn bond. I opened my eyes and found him staring at me as though he were trying to read in a foreign language. He looked so perplexed that I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my lips. Why was I laughing?

Eric's eyes widened and he was still looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had.

"Sookie, what's going on? What is the phrase… you're freaking me out?"

Hearing that a 1,000 year old naked vampire was freaking out did me in. I started laughing uncontrollably, and tears from my pent up anxieties streamed down my face. This response wasn't helping Eric any.

"Are you ill? Was your head injured in some way today?" His eyes were probing mine, trying to decode my bizarre behavior.

"I'm sorry Eric. I think I've finally lost my mind." And then, the laughing stopped as it began and became sobs interspersed with babbling. "Did you know they blew up Tray's body today? It was right in front of us. Our car shook and all the glass blew out. Alcide might be dead, I don't know." Now I was really sobbing and shaking and had my face buried in Eric's chest. I could feel his hands trying to soothe me, but I could also feel his hesitation and confusion as he kept adjusting the position of his hands, from my shoulder to my arm to my hip and back again. I kept up my verbal stream of consciousness between shaking sobs.

"I prayed so much today. I prayed for Bill. Did you know he asked me to pray for him? Well I did, even though he didn't die. But people died today, and I couldn't do anything to stop it or to help. All I could do was walk around and pray and think about you and the bond and how I feel about you and I don't know how you feel about me. I'm afraid to find out. I'm so afraid that you just want me for my disability or to fuck me. That you just want to use me. I'm so afraid that you can't love me the way that I love you."

Fuck. Shit. I'd said that out loud. I'd just told Eric Northman, former Viking and current Sheriff of Area 5 that I loved him. Shit. Thank God my head was buried in his chest so I didn't have to see the pity in his eyes when he told me he didn't love me, that vampires can't love.

Eric's hands stopped moving and tensed. His entire body froze.

I closed my eyes and tried to even out my breathing, which was still coming out in the half-gasps you have when you've been sobbing your guts out. I had completely screwed this up. What kind of idiot am I? I wait nearly my entire life to truly fall in love and then I tell him I love him while soaking his chest with my tears and accuse him of just wanting me for sex and mind-reading. Shit, shit, shit.

I'm sure we laid like that, unmoving, with me barely breathing for just a few minutes, but I swear it felt like hours. It was torture. I was so afraid to look up at his face, to hear the words I knew must be about to leave his lips.

Eric's arms wrapped around me gently. "Sookie." I didn't respond other than to groan in humiliation. I just buried my head into his chest and let myself savor the sensation of being held in his arms this one last time before he broke my heart. I didn't want this moment to end, even though I knew it would.

"Sookie, look at me."

It was time. This was it. Quinn was right. No one would ever love me. I just wanted one more minute in his arms, just one, but Eric was having none of that. He used his strong arms to shift my body so that we were face to face. It was time. My eyes fluttered open, and I could feel fresh tears start to come.

The look on Eric's face freaked me out. My heart stopped for a moment and then began to race; I was so confused. His expression was so …. cocky? His mouth widened into a fangy smile that was pure sex. He practically purred. "Sookie, my lover, my bonded, you finally admit that you love me. Good." His hands began to caress my back with feather-light touches.

"Good? How can this be good? I should have my head examined."

He pulled me closer and brought his lips to mine with such tenderness that I swear my entire body melted. He kissed my eyelids and murmured, "You love me." He mapped my face with his lips and kept me locked in his strong arms. His lips moved to my ear, "You love me, you love me, you love me." He kept repeating my words and underscoring them with his lips on my flesh. Each time he spoke, I felt my fear begin to grow as the words I desperately needed to hear remained unsaid.

I was completely surrounded by Eric. His arms and legs wrapped around me as he kissed every part of me he could reach. His desire for me was obvious and he rubbed his body up and down mine.

"Eric…" I tried to get his attention. "Eric," I said with a little more force.

"Lover," he looked at me with eyes brimming with lust.

"Eric, I accidentally tell you I love you and all you can say is good?"

"It is good, lover. You love me." He ground his hips into mine, rubbing his hard cock across my stomach saying, "I am …. Happy. I am happy and …"

"Horny?" The grinding of his hips made his arousal quite obvious, thank you very much.

"Yes. I want to fuck you right now."

I sighed and started to try and unwind my body from his.

"Lover, what it wrong? I am confused. Do you not want me?"

I felt so exasperated that I couldn't stop the groan of frustration that escaped from my lips. "You're confused? Seriously? Eric. I tell you I love you and all you can say is good and that you want to fuck me. I'm glad you're happy and horny, but is there _nothing_ else that you want to say to me? Nothing at all?"

Again, he looked cocky and practically triumphant. How could a man walk this earth for century after century and not know what the naked woman in his arms needs to hear in this moment? Is he truly that dense? He'd said before that he didn't like having feelings, so that has to mean he has them. Right?

If looks could kill, Eric would have been reduced to a pile of ashy goo by the flames of frustration and anger blazing from my eyes. I couldn't believe I'd been such a fool.

He met my eyes and the biggest smile I've ever seen spread across his face as he began to laugh. If he hadn't had my arms locked in his, I would have slapped the smile off his fangy face.

"Sookie. I'm sorry. I can't help it. Teasing you gives me such pleasure." He was laughing so hard that he jostled me.

I looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Which, he probably did. Maybe a witch was wandering through the woods behind my house and cast a random spell to render any nearby vampire batshit crazy.

With another loud bellow, Eric pulled me up so that I was lying on his chest. He put his hands on either side of my face, brushing my hair away from my eyes and stared into mine, no longer laughing. After a moment of silence he said softly, "Sookie, my lover, my bonded, my wife…Only you can make me laugh with joy. Only you can make me feel like my heart still beats. Only you can aggravate me the way that you do. Only you can make me _feel_. I love you Sookie Stackhouse. You are mine and I am yours."

I saw the truth of his words in his beautiful blue eyes. I was overcome with emotion and nearly drowned in the surge of desire that flooded through my body. Before I could speak, Eric pulled my face to his and captured my lips in a kiss that only fueled our passion. We'd shared some amazing kisses, but this kiss was so much more. I felt like we were expressing our love through our lips alone. I never wanted this feeling to end. His hands dropped to my sides and he began to pull my body up and down his, grinding our hips together. I reached between us to stroke his straining cock as we rubbed our bodies over each other. It was like we couldn't touch each other enough. He surrounded me and I loved it. His fingers parted my folds and he could feel how ready I was for him. I needed him inside me.

His tongue pushed between my lips the moment he lowered me onto him, penetrating me above and below in unison. One hand steadied my body as he thrust into me, moaning, while the other massaged my breasts. Each time he thrust into me, I clenched, trying to keep him deep within for as long as possible. I raised my body, supporting my weight on my knees and began to circle my hips while grinding slowly down and up, teasing him. He hissed and thrust up harder, getting deeper and sending currents of pleasure through me. He took his hand from my hip and brought it around to circle my nub as I rode my Viking hard. We were both straining for release when Eric sat up with me and brought my breast to his mouth. When he nipped and sucked on my hard nipple I swallowed a scream. I was so close. "Do it Eric, bite me. I need you to bite me now." When he sank his fangs into my breast, I came, screaming his name. He continued to thrust, drawing my orgasm out. He still had not found his release. "Lover," he whispered with a thrust, "bite me. Drink from me." Caught up in our passion, I brought my head to his shoulder and bit, drawing a few drops of his sweet blood into my mouth. He came with a roar as I sucked the wound. Feeling his release rush into me pushed me over the cliff and I came again, losing myself in his beautiful blue eyes that looked at me with love.

We again laid on the chaise, limbs entwined, clasping hands. "Sookie," he whispered. "Mmm hmm?" I murmured.

"Lover, it will be dawn in a few hours. I must leave you soon."

"Could you stay until I fall asleep?"

"Yes." He brushed the hair away from my face and drew me closer to him, kissing my forehead sweetly before whispering, "Sleep well my Sookie. I love you."

A/N: This chapter tortured me all week. I'm looking forward to seeing what you think about this. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed or added this story to your alerts, it gives me major thrills and happy smiles.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out to jump in puddles and impersonate Gene Kelly. ­­­­­­­­­­­­

I awoke bathed in golden beams of sunlight streaming in unimpeded through the glassed in back porch. I was wrapped in my Gran's afghan like it was my personal cocoon. My thoughts immediately shifted to the image of Eric carefully tucking me in before leaving me for the safety of his daytime resting place. I was so comfortable, I didn't want to move a muscle, until I smelled the wickedly tempting aroma of fresh coffee wafting through the screen door that led to the kitchen.

Without thinking, my nose enticed me to rise and I kept the warm afghan wrapped tightly around my body. It smelled of sex and Eric and I just wasn't ready to trade its warm embrace for the black wrap dress that was crumpled limply on the floor. My bare feet padded quietly across the wooden porch steps and I swung the screen door open. It creaked. Loudly.

"Sookie, are you finally up?" called Amelia.

"Yep, it's me," I responded and hesitantly stepped into the kitchen, clutching the afghan and praying quickly that it covered me as much as a nun's habit. The morning sun lit my small kitchen brightly and illuminated my roommate sitting hunched at the kitchen table clutching a cup that had to contain hot tea.

"Even though you don't drink it, you have a gift for making the best smelling coffee ever. I'll just go throw on a robe and join you in a sec." I made a dash for my room, but there was no way that Amelia didn't notice I was clad in nothing but afghan. I pulled open my dresser drawer and threw on a t-shirt, underwear and a pair of sweats before returning to the kitchen.

I felt more like myself now that I was clothed in my comfy morning clothes and knew that fresh coffee was moments away. I poured a steaming mug and sat facing Amelia at the kitchen table. "Good morning. Thanks so much for making coffee. How are you feeling?" I asked her.

"I'm fine. I guess. About last night…" I blushed before Amelia could finish her sentence. "…How did I get to my room? I don't even remember leaving the Church."

This was not what I expected her to say. "Sam carried you in. He drove us home."

We each took a sip of our favorite morning beverage and looked aimlessly around the kitchen, not meeting each other's eyes. "So….how are you this morning?" Amelia asked.

"Um. Fine, I guess. Thanks." I was definitely blushing.

"Any particular reason you slept on the back porch in February? " she asked. "If I was a guessing girl, I'd bet the reason was tall, blonde and dead."

I must have looked more red than the hooker red lipstick you see on sale at Wal-Mart for 99 cents. "Ok, fine. Eric came over last night. We talked."

"I _heard_. He clearly is an _excellent _talker. I'd almost forgotten his skills with _language_."

Ok, what's redder than hooker red lipstick? 'Cause that's the hue that graced my cheeks.

"I give in." In one breath I exclaimed, "We had amazingly awesome hot sex on the back porch because I thought we'd be too loud if we were in the house." I still couldn't look Amelia in the eye. Looking down at my coffee I said, "I didn't want to wake you, and it didn't seem right, with Tray, you know?"

"Sookie, I'm so glad you and Eric finally got it on. Don't worry about me. With all that's happened, it's good that someone in this house is getting some. Trust me."

I looked up and saw Amelia genuinely smiling at me for the first time in days. My heart swelled as I met her eyes and knew that this little witch was the best and truest friend I'd ever had. I pushed back my chair and grabbed her in the tightest hug I could give, which, considering I'd just had Eric's blood was pretty tight. I loved her so much. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have her as a friend. I knew she was still hurting about Tray, yet she didn't hold my night with Eric against me. Now that's a friend.

She hugged me back and said, "If you really loved me and wanted me to forget your night of sexcapades, you'd make me your special drop biscuits and scrambled eggs so that I have sustenance to get me through my drive."

"Drive?"

"Sookie, I told you yesterday that I'm leaving for New Orleans. I really wanted to leave yesterday, but I guess I needed sleep more."

My heart sank. For some reason, I'd interpreted her making coffee and waiting in the kitchen for me and not being mad about Eric as signs that she'd changed her mind about leaving for New Orleans. I really didn't want her to leave. I needed to talk to her about Eric, about what happened last night. With that thought, I made myself keep quiet. How incredibly selfish and rude would it be to demand that Amelia listen to me prattle on about Eric and I confessing our love the day after the funeral for the man she'd probably loved. I reprimanded myself and forced myself to ask in a neutral tone, "Have you decided how long you're going to be gone for?"

"I think just a week. I want to check on how the renovations on my place are going, and I need to check in with Daddy. I promise to call you or text you every day. I'll really miss you Sookie, but I just need to have some time to myself. I need to sort things out."

I stood and began pulling the ingredients for my biscuits out of the cabinets. "You know I don't want you to leave, but I understand. Really, I do. But, I refuse to have you leave on an empty stomach. Go get ready. By the time you're done, drop biscuits ala Sookie with my secret scrambled eggs and sausage will be on the table. Scoot. You don't want to go to New Orleans with bed head do you?"

Amelia laughed and made her way upstairs.

Once she was gone, I proceeded to make breakfast. As I went through the familiar motions, I felt a wave of loneliness overcome me. Images of Gran teaching me how to make this very breakfast came over me and I missed her so deeply it hurt. I desperately wanted to talk with her about Eric and how I was feeling. When I put the biscuits in the oven, I set aside my memories of Gran and ran to my room to take a quick shower while they baked.

Amelia and I enjoyed a companionable breakfast. We talked about her plans for New Orleans and my plans to enjoy having the next two days off. Sam had been so sweet to give me the two days after Tray's funeral off; he'd thought Amelia would have needed me at home. As we ate and talked, I didn't tell her about Eric. I just couldn't do it. I guess I needed some time to think things through for myself. Maybe it would be good for me to have the house to myself for a week.

By the time we cleaned up the dishes, it was almost noon. I knew Amelia was itching to start the four hour drive to New Orleans, so I suggested that she get a move on. She ran up to me and gave me a tight hug. "Sookie, you're the best friend I've ever had. I promise to call every day, or I'll send you a text. I'll miss you so much. And just think, I'll have ever better wards to cast once I've had my training sessions with Octavia this week!"

"I'll miss you too. Drive safe little witch! Don't forget to call me! And don't bring home any man-cats!"

Amelia laughed and winked, turned and picked up her suitcase and walked out the door. I went to the front window and watched her load her suitcase into the trunk and drive away.

I was alone.

I looked around my empty house, hoping to find something to occupy my time. Amelia's grief was evident in the polished floors and dust free surfaces that gleamed in the early afternoon sun. Like me, Amelia cleaned when she needed to work things through. Clearly, she'd been working through a lot while I'd recovered from the Fairy War. And that's just where I didn't want my mind to go. I tried to force the dark thoughts that immediately surged through my mind back to the place where I kept them hidden. It was bad enough that I had to think of Neave and Lochlan and their tortures every time I looked at my body. I didn't want them in my head too.

I turned on the radio in desperate need of a distraction. As some generic song filled the living room with noise I looked around for something to do. I realized I hadn't checked the mail in days, so I pulled on my cranberry coat and set off towards the mailbox. Even though it was early afternoon, the air was still crisp and cool. It felt so good to be outside.

I breathed in deeply and enjoyed the aroma of Bon Temps in the winter. Just the small amount of Eric's blood that I'd drunk last night enhanced my senses. I swear I could smell the lingering ash of fires that had burned through the night, warming the homes of my distant neighbors. I could smell the fallen leaves decomposing in the earth, mingling with the dirt and preparing the ground for the green revitalization of spring. Before I knew it, I was at my mailbox.

I reached in and grabbed the thick bundle of coupons, ads, bills and credit card offers. As I walked slowly back up the drive, I leafed through the mail. By the time I reached my porch, I'd sorted the mail into the usual piles: junk bound for the trash, coupons I needed to clip and bills to pay. I couldn't classify one letter. My address was handwritten in a printed script with no return address. I didn't recognize the handwriting.

Walking into the kitchen, I put the mail down on the table and poured myself the last of the coffee. The coupons could wait; I wanted to know what my mystery letter beheld. For some reason, the aromas of the winter afternoon called to me. I grabbed my coffee and the mystery letter and went outside and sat on the porch swing. Just thinking about being folded into Eric's arms on that very swing sent my heart soaring. I set my mug of coffee on the small table that sat on the side of the swing and turned the envelope over in my hands, trying to decipher it without opening it. It was just a normal envelope with my name and address printed on the front. The stamp from the Post Office read Bon Temps, so I knew it was mailed by someone local.

Curious, I opened the envelope slowly and carefully pulled out its contents – one thin sheet of paper that was unlike any paper I'd ever touched. It felt so thin and fragile. I wondered if this was what the onionskin paper I'd read about in books felt like. I unfolded the piece of delicate paper and began to read.

"_My darling Sookie,_

_It embarrasses me that you still breathe and that your tainted blood still runs through your veins. But don't worry, that won't last for long. You've been watched more carefully than you know, but I'll still have the last Word. _

_Can't wait until you die!"_

My heart stopped when I read the name signed with a flourish at the bottom of the page. Fear overwhelmed me and I lost consciousness.

A/N: Well, what do you think? Who wrote the letter? Thanks again for the reviews and alerts. You guys rock!!!!!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out to play Guitar Hero (which I've never played -- the SVM crew has all the fun). ­­­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

The name signed at the bottom of the page in elegant handwriting echoed through my head. My pulse raced. My fingers felt numb. I couldn't catch my breath. I was dizzy. I felt myself falling forward, off of the swing, as the name of the man who'd signed my death warrant pulsed through my thoughts… _Dermot, Dermot, Dermot, Dermot……………Eric…………_

_

* * *

  
_

"Sookie! Sookie! Wake up. Are you OK?" Andy dropped to his knees and searched for a pulse. He found that her pulse was racing, or at least it was by his calculations. Shit. It'd been years since his CPR class. He felt awkward, not knowing what FBI procedure would be in this situation, and he felt strange kneeling down on Sookie's porch, holding her slight wrist in his hand. "She's not waking up." Andy Bellefleur looked over to Agent Lattesta for guidance.

"Just give her a minute," Lattesta said somewhat coldly. "I'm sure she just fainted. She must be stressed out after the bombing yesterday." In the silence as they waited, Agent Lattesta looked down at Sookie Stackhouse sprawled out on her porch floor, her legs askew. He took in her beautiful legs and his eyes wandered up her body, pausing on the piece of paper clinched tightly in her right hand. "What's that in her hand?" he asked, gesturing to the local yokel.

"I don't know. Don't you think we should call an ambulance? I know she's breathing, but I heard she was in a car wreck last week. Maybe it's caught up to her?" Andy asked pointlessly.

"Just let me see what's in her hand." Lattesta asked impatiently.

But Andy Bellefleur wasn't having it. He respected Sookie's privacy and thought it was disgraceful that that were letting her lay there, unconscious on the floor, without calling for help. He mustered up his courage, placing his hands firmly on his hips and looked the FBI agent in the eye. "I'm calling this in. She's unconscious and we don't know why." He gave Lattesta his sternest law enforcement stare and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Pressing a hot key, he paused for a moment before saying with authority, "This is Detective Bellefleur. Send a bus to the Stackhouse property. Sookie's unconscious on her porch and we don't know why."

Bon Temps is a small town. Andy knew that Jerlene, the 911 operator, knew exactly where the Stackhouse property was and he knew she wouldn't question his request for an ambulance. For some reason, Andy felt oddly protective of Sookie. Even though she was a freak, she was one of his people. He just couldn't understand Lattesta's interest in her.

This morning, when Lattesta had come to the station and approached Andy about interviewing Sookie about the events at the Church yesterday, Andy hadn't questioned his motives. If he was being honest with himself, he would have admitted that he was thrilled to be a part of an FBI investigation, but something didn't smell right. He knew that Sookie was unusual, but he couldn't figure out what made Lattesta so insistent about talking to her. Andy's staff had thoroughly interviewed everyone who'd witnessed the events at the Church, and Andy himself had personally questioned Sookie. She'd known nothing more than anyone else, even considering her special ... whatever it was.

When they'd first pulled up at the Stackhouse home, Andy had immediately felt that something wasn't right. As soon as he'd reached the porch steps and had seen Sookie sprawled out on the porch, he'd wanted to call for help, but Lattesta had stopped him. Something just wasn't sitting right about Lattesta, and Andy knew that he'd have to figure out what the deal was.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, Andy turned to Agent Lattesta and said, "The bus is on the way. Let's leave her be for now." Andy had heard detectives refer to ambulances as "buses" on TV. He didn't want to seem like a small town cop to Agent Lattesta, so he used the vernacular he assumed Lattesta would employ.

They stood over Sookie awkwardly for a minute, and she began to shake and clutch herself into a ball, arms wrapped tightly over her knees. She moaned, over and over, "Dermot, no, please no. Just leave me be. No more. I can't take it anymore." She wasn't convulsing, but she was incredibly pale and tears streamed down her cheeks. Andy had never seen anything like it, and once again, Sookie Stackhouse was making him incredibly uncomfortable. His first instinct was to glance at his watch to estimate how long it would take for the ambulance to arrive so that medical professionals could deal with the situation.

While Andy was frozen, staring at the freakishly pale blonde woman crying and shaking on the floor, Agent Lattesta hunched over her and examined Sookie like a sadistic biology student preparing to make the first slice down a frog's belly. His eyes took in every inch of Sookie's fragile frame, but focused hungrily on the thin piece of paper clutched in her hand. Even though Agent Lattesta had spent most of his career in Rhodes, his instincts were screaming at him that this piece of paper was the key to the case of the bombing at the Were's funeral and much more.

As Sookie shook and shivered on the wood floor of her porch, Agent Lattesta's eyes filled with greed for her knowledge and just how that knowledge could best be put to his use. He was irritated that the local yokel had called for an ambulance. The idiot actually called it a bus. With any luck, the moron who answered the emergency line in this hick town had called the high school for an actual "bus." The longer it took for real paramedics to arrive, the more time he had to get a closer look at that piece of paper and, if she woke, to question Sookie before she put her guard up.

Just as the ambulance's siren first pierced the quiet country air, Agent Lattesta pried the sheet of paper from Sookie's hand, certain that it pertained to her state. He smoothed the thin wrinkled paper and read the words scrawled in a feminine hand:

"To Do:

return books to library

buy shampoo

call Jason"

Agent Lattesta nearly crumpled the paper in frustration. He'd been so sure that the paper would have held some clue as to Sookie's condition. He couldn't believe he'd let his impression of her abilities lead him to believe that the piece of paper an unconscious woman clutched in her hands would somehow reveal the answers to all his questions. He'd have to get his head examined. He'd allowed himself to get wrapped up in the idea that there was more to the supernatural world than vampires and werewolves. For some reason, he felt a surge of anger rising as he looked at the woman writhing on the floor. What the hell was wrong with her?

Andy was shocked that Agent Lattesta had grabbed the piece of paper out of Sookie's hand. He wavered between thinking that it was an invasion of her privacy or that somehow Lattesta had disturbed a crime scene. Inwardly, Andy kicked himself. This wasn't a crime scene. For God's sake, other than Sookie's physical condition, nothing seemed out of place. Nothing indicated that a crime had occurred. As such, it wasn't bad that Lattesta had pulled the paper from her hand. Andy found himself wishing that the damn "bus" would hurry the hell up and arrive. Still kneeling by Sookie's side, Andy awkwardly patted her head in an attempt to calm her. If she knew he was there, she didn't acknowledge it. She continued rocking her body, arms clasped around her knees moaning about something weird. It sounded like Dermot, but Andy couldn't figure out what that meant. He'd never heard of anything called a Dermot. Maybe she was saying termite?

As the ambulance pulled into the drive, Andy asked Lattesta, "What was on the paper?"

"Nothing of interest. It's her 'To Do' list of the day," Agent Lattesa replied sourly, handing the paper to Andy.

Andy took the thin piece of paper from Agent Lattesta and read the words written there. Although he could see it was a typical list, something about it wasn't right to Andy. The paper was thin, practically delicate. It didn't seem like the kind of paper people used to write out their To Do list. It seemed more like the kind of paper Halleigh…well Portia… had used as an insert on their wedding invitations. It was definitely not something that a barmaid at Merlotte's would use to make a list. He set it on the porch floor close to Sookie's hand, hoping that she'd think she'd dropped it there.

Andy didn't have the chance to focus more on the strangeness of the type of paper because the paramedics pushed him to the side as they began to attend to Sookie. As the paramedics checked Sookie for injuries, Andy watched, but he couldn't push the thought from his head that things weren't as they seemed. Frankly, it creeped him out, and he was regretting agreeing to accompany Agent Lattesta on this particular interview. His mind wandered to Halleigh, and what she was doing now, as the paramedics poked and prodded Sookie. He had to admit to himself that Sookie looked childlike and innocent crumpled up on the floor. Her vulnerability was such a contrast to the Sookie he thought he knew. He felt even more uncomfortable. Luckily, the paramedics - Don and Davis - whom Andy knew from other scenes, were making progress getting through to Sookie.

When the paramedics arrived, Agent Lattesta stepped off the porch to stand by the car to make phone calls. Not wanting to be in the way, Andy rose and stepped to the side to lean against the porch rail. He kept checking his phone as a way to distract himself from staring at Don and Davis as they went through the usual checklist to make sure that Sookie was OK.

* * *

Someone was touching me.

I felt hands on my wrist and others on my neck. They felt strange. Not human. It felt like balloons were rubbing against my skin. I could feel my panic begin to rise again as something was wrapped around my arm and I could hear the familiar sound of Velcro. Velcro? Whatever was on my left arm was squeezing it more and more and more, before it finally began to slowly release. I was too terrified to open my eyes. This was it. I was sure that Dermot had found me and was just beginning to torture me with the balloons and the Velcro-pressure thing on my arm. At least he wasn't biting or cutting me yet. I squeezed my eyes so tightly the tears could barely eke through. My heart hammered and I knew this was it. I was going to die, probably after much torture. My mind immediately went to Eric and I thought how wrong it was that I'd had less than 24 hours to revel in love.

Sounds began to penetrate the haze of my panic. I heard the shifting of weight on wood. Maybe Dermot was standing on a wood floor? The last thing I remembered before the balloon touched was sitting on my swing and opening his letter. Could I still be on my porch? As the balloon fingers continued to probe my body I tried to assess where I was. It felt like I was lying on wood. Maybe I was on my porch? The air smelled like home; another clue to my location. I thought I could hear the murmur of voices in the background, but I couldn't yet make out any words. My tongue felt dry and my fingers felt numb. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and it seemed like it was hard to breathe. I tried to focus on slowly drawing air in and out of my lungs, but then my breathing almost stopped. If Dermot was just going to kill me, what was the point of keeping breathing? Why not just give in to the fear and die?

But I didn't want to die. I wanted to live.

I knew what I had to do. Did I have the strength to suffer through fairy violence again and live? Just as the thought of giving in and dying crossed my mind, images of Bill, of Clancy, of Tray and of Eric ...fighting for me...protecting me, crossed my mind, and I knew I had to fight. I felt a surge of strength course through my body, and I let my battle cry escape from my lips just as my fists wailed and my legs began to kick. No one was going to take my life from me without a fight.

My fists and legs connected with flesh as I screamed. I opened my eyes to see what I'd connected with, hoping that I'd at least stunned Dermot with my sudden show of force.

The fading light of the winter afternoon shocked me as my eyes adjusted to the light, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I was clearly lying on my front porch. To my left was Davis, the Bon Temps paramedic who occasionally dropped by Merlotte's for a scotch and soda after a particularly bad day. His hand was grasping his nose and blood was pouring out between his blue-gloved fingertips. Out of the corner of my left eye, I could see Andy Bellefleur leaning against the porch rail, a look of shock and confusion on his face. I sat up, wildly, my eyes scanning for Dermot. Near my feet, I saw Don, the town's other paramedic hunched over his legs, clutching his thigh with a grimace of pain on his face.

Dermot was nowhere to be seen.

I could hear a terrible scream coming from somewhere close by. I twisted my body trying to scan for the source of the horrible noise. The screaming stopped at almost the same moment that my eyes saw Agent Lattesta leaping onto the first porch step as though he'd been running.

Silence wrapped around me as four pairs of eyes locked with mine and their thoughts poured into my head.

"_Fuck. I think she broke my fucking nose," thought Davis._

"_Jesus, please let me never hear anything like that again. She sounded like a trapped animal," thought Andy._

"_Thank God she didn't get my balls. That kick to my thigh is going to leave a deep bruise," thought Don._

"_Why would she pass out on her porch holding her To Do list? This doesn't make any sense. She's the key to the bombing, to all of this. I know it. She's some kind of psychic. Sara agrees. I need her to tell me what she knows and how she does it."_

Agent Lattesta's thoughts snapped me back to reality. What did he mean about passing out with my To Do list? I hadn't even made one yet for today. The only thing I was holding, that I remembered, was the death threat from Dermot. What was going on? As my arms flailed wildly to my sides, I felt the thin paper of my death sentence beneath my fingers and I grasped it tightly.

Andy broke the awkward silence, hesitantly, still staring at me with wide, horrified eyes. "Sookie…" He paused, and his voice softened and said gently, as though I was a toddler, "It's Detective Bellefleur…um, Andy. What happened? We came to talk to you and found you unconscious."

How could I answer his question? Gee Andy, I mean Detective Bellefleur, I was having a pretty good day, especially since I had more orgasms than I could count last night, but when I went to check my mail I found a death threat written to me by one of my last living relatives. Oh, and he's part fairy but not the kind of fairy you're thinking of? That definitely wouldn't get me on the Bellefleur Christmas card list, no matter how much Halleigh might like me. My best option was the usual one. Paste an idiotic smile on my face and lie, a bit.

"Andy…Don…Davis…Agent Lattesta…" I looked each man in the eyes in turn, trying not to look like a psychopath. "I don't know what's going on. All I remember is getting my mail." How much to tell them? Could I tell them about Dermot's letter? No. That would probably be a mistake. It would be best to leave out the homicidal relative from my explanation. Confessing that would definitely guarantee that I'd never get any more prize-winning cake from Andy's vaunted grandmother ever again. Why was I so worried about the Bellefleurs? Maybe I'd lost my mind.

"I put the mail in the kitchen and got a fresh cup of coffee. I came out here to drink it and…" Well, how to explain that I'd come out here to read my mystery letter, which I was clutching in my hand, while enjoying the fall afternoon? That wouldn't make any sense. "And, that's the last thing I remember until now." I looked at Davis. He was still clutching his nose and staring at me in shock.

"Davis, I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Don moved over to Davis to examine him and said, "Don't worry about it Sookie. Sometimes things like this happen. It's all in a day's work." He grinned and thought, _"Wait until I tell the guys that Sookie Stackhouse broke Davis's nose. I'll drink for free for a week with this story!"_

Davis grunted and kept his hand pressed tightly to his nose. Don looked back to me and said, "Well Sookie, it seems like you've recovered just fine. I'm concerned about why you passed out. Has this ever happened to you before?" I shook my head no. "Then I'd like to suggest that you make an appointment with your doctor when you can. You might have low blood sugar or you might have had a panic attack that caused you to hyperventilate and pass out. Your heart was racing when we got here."

I looked at him, my crazy Sookie grin plastered on my face like it'd been etched in concrete and said, "Thanks so much for coming. I feel fine now, but I'll be sure to check in with my doctor as soon as I can." Right. I don't have insurance, and there's no way I'm going to spend money to have some doctor tell me what I already know; Dermot's letter had frightened me into unconsciousness. I don't know if it was my reassuring words or if Don simply needed to get Davis to the hospital, but both paramedics stood and made their way to their ambulance. Silence again descended on the porch as the ambulance drove away.

I was still sitting on the porch floor as Andy and Agent Lattesta looked down on me. Andy regarded me with a mixture of fear and confusion while Agent Lattesta looked at me with impatience and … greed?

I gauged my strength and figured that I was strong enough to stand. Still clutching the thin piece of paper in my hand, I felt a little dizzy once I'd reached my full, though short, height, but the dizziness quickly passed. Ever my Gran's progeny, I turned to look at my _guests_ and said, "Please come in. Can I get you something to drink? I have sweet tea."

The men followed me in the house and I gestured for them to sit. As I made my way to the kitchen, both said that tea would be lovely. I grinned as I _heard _Agent Lattesa try to will himself to drink sweet tea again without gagging. I remembered the last time he was in my home. Octavia had made the tea and it had completely grossed Lattesa out.

Walking into the kitchen, I scanned the room for a place to hide the letter from Dermot. My first instinct was to set it on my kitchen table, but for some reason I thought it needed to be hidden. As such, I opened the bread box and shoved the letter inside.

Pulling glasses from the cupboard, I tried to slow my movements in order to have time to think. Obviously, Andy and Lattesta wanted to pick my brain about the bombing at Tray's funeral. Although I'd told Andy everything I knew yesterday, it was clear that Lattesta wanted to talk to me himself. I couldn't figure out why Lattesta would still be in Bon Temps.

As I pulled the tea from the fridge, I sighed heavily. I really wished that Eric was here. Looking at the clock, I saw that it was nearly 5 pm. Sunset wasn't for more than an hour, so I was on my own. Even if Eric was awake, I didn't know how long it would take him to get here, whether he was driving or flying. I must have still been a bit delirious, because I wondered how many women needed to know, for certain, if their boyfriend (is that what he was) would arrive faster by flying or driving his Corvette. Crap. I've lost it.

And then it hit me. Opening the freezer to pull out the ice, I realized that I was truly alone. Gran was dead. Claudine was dead. Niall had closed off the Fae world. Jason and I were barely on speaking terms. Amelia was gone, for now. Eric was dead for all practical purposes and Sam was at the bar. Hell, I didn't even know if Alcide was dead or alive. This was it. I was alone. I had to handle this on my own. While this realization frightened me, I was also a Stackhouse, and a telepathic one at that. I knew I needed to lower my shields and use my disability to my fullest advantage if I was to navigate this conversation. My worry was heightened because a large part of me was convinced that if Agent Lattesta discerned my secrets he would spirit me away to the FBI world to use as his own personal investigative tool. I poured the tea and placed the glasses on a tray and randomly thought that at least vampires told me honestly when they wanted to use me to better their careers.

Since it was nearly time for supper, I thought I should scrounge to find a suitable snack for my guests. Plus, this bought me time to listen in. As I tried to make a sensible appetizer out of the contents of my fridge, I listened in, focusing on Agent Lattesta.

* * *

A/N: Well thanks to bearing with me; I know it took me a bit of time to post. You know how it goes...real work gets in the way of my play.... Please let me know if the different POVs were confusing. Since Sookie was unconscious, I needed an omniscient narrator to take over for a bit before returning to Sookie's POV. What do you think Lattesta wants from Sookie???? Thanks again for the reviews and alerts. You guys rock!!!!!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out to weed my garden.

Thank you all for the reviews. I can't believe there are 60 of them! Special shout out to BrooklynCali for the Bobby B. reminder….Thank you!!!!

_

* * *

_**Previously....**

_Since it was nearly time for supper, I thought I should scrounge to find a suitable snack for my guests. Plus, this bought me time to listen in. As I tried to make a sensible appetizer out of the contents of my fridge, I listened in, focusing on Agent Lattesta_.

* * *

Searching through the fridge, I found some cheese, carrots and almonds that could be a serviceable appetizer, when paired with some Triscuits. As I pulled the crackers from the pantry, I froze, stunned by what I was _hearing_ from the living room.

"_Hmmm. This couch is more comfortable than I would have expected. I wonder how much Sookie knows about Jason's involvement with the Guardians of the Light. I can't believe that this local yokel was so protective of Sookie. Who knew? I'm sure I can work a reduced sentence for her brother if Sookie will just come to D.C. with me," _thought Lattesta_._

My hand gripped the box of Triscuits as though it was a lifeline. My knees felt weak, but I willed myself to be strong. Jesus Christ Shepherd of Judea, Agent Lattesta thought my brother was involved with the Guardians of the Light, possibly the same people who had nearly killed me and my friends not more than 24 hours ago. I instantly thought that Dermot was impersonating Jason, but another part of me wondered if Jason had joined their ranks as some way to rebel against all of the Supe crap that had been dumped on him.

But I knew my brother. He loved being a werepanther. He would never betray his peers, or me … just to …. To what? Connect with the last living relative he'd ever met? Connect with the relative who looked just like him and had warned him about Mel? Dermot had certainly shown more interest in Jason than Niall had, and Jason liked to feel special... Maybe Jason had somehow gotten himself involved with the Guardians? Truth be told, Jason was never the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Despite our differences and my hunch that he'd retained some resentment towards me and Niall, I couldn't believe that Jason would be involved with Dermot, especially since he knew that fairies had killed Cheryl and his unborn child.

I had to learn more.

Apparently, my best shot of learning more was sitting on the couch of my living room, critiquing my furnishings and wondering how long it takes to pour a glass of sweet tea.

As I assembled my humble appetizers on a plate and arranged the drinks on a tray my mind wandered a bit. Honestly, I was partly wishing that someone else would swoop in and help me figure this out so I wouldn't have to face this alone. I know I pride myself on being an independent woman, but I was still feeling a little vulnerable, and I had been ever since the Fae War.

A part of me kicked myself as I remembered that Eric wanted me to call Bobby if ever the FBI tried to talk to me. As much as I wanted help, I still didn't trust Bobby. I thought I'd be better off alone, and possibly trying to stall them, than I would be if I called Bobby and asked the FBI to wait. Besides, no matter how much Eric glamoured or persuaded Bobby, the fact of the matter was that the man couldn't stand me. … I wondered if I should call Sam. Of course I knew that would cause problems with Eric, but truth be told, I trust Sam Merlotte much more than any other random man, much less Eric's "day man" who happened to hate me. No matter what I do, I can count on the fact that Sam Merlotte has my best interests at heart.

Looking at the clock, I realized it was nearly 5:15. I'd left Agent Lattesta and Andy cooling their heels for nearly 15 minutes. It was time to square my shoulders, keep my head held high and feed two men some Triscuits.

Carefully, I placed the plate that held the cheese, carrots, almonds and Triscuits on the tray that also held the glasses of sweet tea meant for Andy, myself and Agent Lattesta. I walked slowly from the kitchen clutching the tray hoping that neither of my guests would key in to my uncertainty about our impending conversation, or interrogation.

I set the tray down on the coffee table before them and handed each man a glass of sweet iced tea. Before sitting beside Andy on the couch --- Agent Lattesta was sitting on the easy chair across from us, I made sure that my guests seemed comfortable. I gently gripped my own glass of tea and sank down into the couch, reveling in how the piece of furniture seemed to hug my body with familiarity. I glanced to my left and stared for a minute at the empty fireplace. In my mind's eye, I didn't see an empty fireplace, nor did I see Andy or Agent Lattesta sitting before me. Rather, I saw a roaring fire and Eric sprawled out before it on my afghan as he stared into my eyes and we … simply …. talked...

I was so wrapped up in my memories that I almost didn't hear Agent Lattesta when he asked, "Ms. Stackhouse….Sookie. Can you tell us why we found you unconscious on your porch this afternoon?"

Well. That wasn't the question I expected and it wasn't one I wanted to answer. How could I explain to two humans that I'd received a death threat from my part-human relative, who by the way, looked just like my brother so maybe it's the fairy Jason not the real Jason that's somehow involved with the Guardians? Of course, I couldn't show them the death threat because it looked like a To Do list to them. And yes, I just renamed Dermot "fairy Jason" in my mind and I giggled a little. Agent Lattesta and Andy stared at me, eyes wide. Andy had paused mid-bite.

I must be going nuts.

Of course Andy and his new best FBI friend were re-interviewing everyone who'd been at the Church. They weren't here because I was a freak….were they? I stifled that thought until I remembered Lattesta's thoughts about Jason and his first question. How could I explain why was I unconscious on the porch when they arrived? Before I could respond to Agent Lattesta, the horror of Dermot's note came crashing down on me like a tidal wave… I was overwhelmed and feeling like I'd been sucked under the sea, helplessly tossed about, with no hope of rescue.

After my completely inappropriate you-had-to-be-there-_in-my-head_ laugh, I started to feel physically strange. My mind was flitting and I couldn't concentrate on Agent Lattesta and Andy's faces. My fingertips felt numb; my heart seemed to race and it felt so difficult to force air into my lungs. I was struggling so hard to breathe that I couldn't focus on my surroundings. As the oxygen left my body and I began to hallucinate, my mind wandered and wondered if Eric would come to my home to … what? … rescue me from an adult conversation that just about everyone from Bon Temps had already completed? Of course not everyone in Bon Temps had a brother or a relative who might have been involved in the bombing.

Gran's training had insured that I was sitting, demurely though fighting to control my breathing and my body, across from Agent Lattesta and Andy. I tried to slow my breathing and focus on the tray of tea and treats I'd placed so gingerly on top of the coffee table that formed an antique, wooden barrier between us. I sat just on the edge of the couch, trying to form a coherent response. Both men searched out my eyes. While ogling me like the prize-winning heifer at the State Fair, one man tried to find the familiar in my eyes while the other tried to find the unique.

I didn't know how much time had elapsed since Agent Lattesta asked his question and I'd giggled like an idiot. I pasted on my best Sookie smile and looked him in the eyes. Or at least, I think I looked him in the eyes; my vision was still blurry.

"Agent Lattesta," I said, "I can't imagine why you found me unconscious. I'm so grateful to you, and to Andy." I stared into Andy's eyes and tried to communicate just how grateful I was into that one glance. "I'm sure you understand that it's been a difficult time for me." I almost whispered my last words, hoping that Lattesta and Andy would interpret my reluctance to talk as a sign of my delicate Southern nature. … I knew that they wouldn't and that it was pathetic to suggest such a thing, but a girl can hope, right?

"Ms. Stackhouse….Sookie," Agent Lattesta said, "We need to discuss yesterday's events."

I didn't feel the need to discuss anything with him. Where did he get off investigating this anyway? The last I knew, he was stationed in Rhodes and his partner was from New Orleans.

"Sir, I appreciate your concern, but isn't this out of your jurisdiction?" I really didn't mean to provoke him, but a part of me did. It was as if I couldn't resist calling him out on my personal rights. The functioning part of my brain was hoping that I could stall until someone … fine, I admit it …. _Eric_ … could arrive to help me navigate through this situation. Glancing quickly at my watch, I saw that it was 5:30. Sunset was in 30 minutes. "If memory serves, you're based out of Rhodes, not Bon Temps. I would have thought that Detective Bellefleur was in charge."

Well, I'd thrown the gauntlet down. Agent Lattesta looked like I'd asked him to suck bleach through a straw and Andy looked like I'd awarded him with the Medal of Honor. If I had to make one man happy, somehow I knew that Andy was my guy. Before I could say another word, Andy said, "Agent Lattesta, I want to thank you for your expertise. It's been real helpful having you here these past few weeks. But, Sookie, I mean Ms. Stackhouse, is right when she points out that the agency in charge of this investigation is the Bon Temps PD."

I don't think I could have smiled more genuinely at Detective Andy Bellefleur than at the moment he put FBI Agent Lattesta in his place. If I'd know of anything that would make Andy or Halleigh happy, I would have done it, then and there. Maybe I should make them a pie. I really felt like Andy was on my side; which truly, was an odd feeling. I knew it wouldn't last when I saw the look on Lattesta's face. It was like his facial expressions moved from disgust to anger to suspicion to calm so quickly a butterfly couldn't have fanned its wings twice. Looking at his face, I knew that Lattesta was trouble, regardless of who was in charge. I thought he was just humoring Andy by having him involved.

I brought a baby carrot to my lips and crunched down, while looking Agent Lattesta in the eyes. "So, Agent Lattesta, what can I do for you?" I asked, while I chewed my carrot and looked into Andy's eyes searching for answers. I have to admit, I didn't just look into Andy's eyes; I searched his mind with my talent, in the same moment I forced my eyes into my lap and swallowed. Andy's mind wasn't particularly helpful, but I would take what I could get, although his thoughts were racing.

_"I don't understand why we're here. I questioned Sookie yesterday and I know I did a good job. I don't need this asshole coming around second guessing how I conduct interviews. Maybe Sookie is right. What jurisdiction does he actually have here? I know he's been helpful before, but something doesn't seem right. I wonder when we'll be done. I think Halleigh's making fried chicken for dinner tonight."_

Agent Lattesta jerked Andy from his thoughts and caught my attention the moment he stared into my eyes and asked, "How long has your brother been involved with bomb planting extremists?"

I know my eyes went wide with shock and Andy's seemed to mirror mine. Neither of us expected Agent Lattesta to take this approach.

Truly, I was so shocked that I was unable to focus my energies adequately to read Lattesta's mind. In that moment, I was as blind as Andy.

Our silence only seemed to encourage Lattesta. He said, "How long has your brother provided comfort to domestic terrorists?" I think my eyes were still so wide with shock, like Andy's, that I didn't respond. Lattesta kept talking. "Don't you think it's awfully convenient that you were in a car that wouldn't have been impacted by the blast, yet one of your lovers was in the line of fire? Isn't it true that the late Alcide Hevereaux was your lover?"

Lattesta's eyes were boring into mine seeking secrets I would never willingly divulge. My head was spinning and one word was echoing through my head, "late…..late…..late….late…." Did he know Alcide's condition? Did he really mean that Alcide was dead? How could he think that Jason was a part of this? Lattesta's words swirled through my head, making me dizzy. I tried to focus on Andy, but that was no use. No matter how much I concentrated on his face, I couldn't hear a thing. My own thoughts were drowning theirs out. Lattesta's words swirled around me as I fought to remain conscious. Anger seemed to course through my veins as I concentrated on his eyes.

"Are you telling me that Alcide is dead? Is this how you're telling me?" My voice cracked and I realized that my body had risen from the couch and seemed to confront Lattesta just by standing. I hovered over him, shouting, "You're fucking lying! Alcide is not dead! My brother had nothing to do with this! How dare you suggest otherwise," I screamed. Andy looked like I'd hit him across the face with a two by four and Agent Lattesta looked almost happy. It was his gleeful happiness that made me want to hurt him. Something welled within me, something violent and angry, and I knew, more than anything, that I wanted to hurt Agent Lattesta.

I drew my right hand back and prepared to slap the shit out of Agent Lattesta. What seemed like minutes to me were mere seconds as I hovered over him, my eyes reddening with rage as my hand braced for its eventual contact with his cheek. I let my hand go, and with the full force of all I had, I smacked Agent Lattesta across the face.

The sound of my flesh connecting with his reverberated through the room and seemed like it was amplified by the silence of my family home. There I stood, hovering over the FBI agent I'd just struck while the familiar, local police detective I'd known for decades stared at me like I'd sprouted horns. I knew I'd broken many laws, but I just didn't care, as the possibility of Alcide's death surrounded me like a storm. It couldn't be true. Alcide couldn't be dead.

I felt my knees go weak; sounds like rushing water filled my ears; I closed my eyes and felt my heart begin to break.

I collapsed on the floor.

"Shit," Andy muttered as he slid down the couch and crouched beside me. He looked up to Agent Lattesta and asked, "Why the fuck did you have to tell her like that?" As he spoke, I could feel Andy trying to pull my body towards his into a position of comfort, as his eyes shot daggers into Lattesta's. He cradled me in his arms and began to rock me in an unfamiliar manner. "You knew they were close. How could you tell her like that?" Andy spat at Lattesta.

I could feel Andy's arms move around me before I had the strength to open my eyes. My body seemed to move from side to side as the thoughts from Andy and Lattesta bombarded me.

"_Be OK Sookie. Just be OK," _Andy thought, _"Halleigh likes you. I'm not sure why, because you're a freak, but you saved her once and I just need you to be OK. I'm sorry your friend is dead. Shit this is wrong. I wonder what Halleigh would think. Fuck."_

As Andy's thoughts increasingly turned to Halleigh, I focused more on Agent Lattesta.

As he looked down on me, cradled in Andy's arms he thought, _"Fuck. How did this go so wrong? All I needed to do was ask her about her brother! I know he's involved! Fuck! I can't ask her about him if she's fucking unconscious. Fuck. Maybe it's good that this idiot…Andy… is comforting her. Maybe that'll make her feel safe enough to tell us about her brother. I need to see her reaction to the photographs. We'll see if she's really surprised then. I can't believe she didn't know that Hevereaux was dead. From what I've heard, they werem't involved for long. I don't understand why this would be such a big deal…."_

I had been "conscious" for quite some time, but I still pretended to be dead to the world. So many thoughts were swirling through my head, I wasn't sure of the best approach. I was simply overwhelmed, and I longed for Eric so strongly it was as if every part of my body was calling for him. As Andy gently rocked my "unconscious" body, I realized that I could stall by pretending to be unconscious. Hopefully, I could buy myself enough time for Eric, or hell, _any_ of my vampires to arrive and lend me support. I could also buy time to get my feelings under control. If Alcide was really dead, it would wreck me and rip me in two. I didn't want to feel that pain yet.

More than anything, I believed and desperately needed to believe that my brother was not involved in anything nefarious. He may be dumb as a post, but he'd never do anything that would result in such mayhem and destruction. I needed to see the pictures that Agent Lattesta had thought about. I was certain that I would be able to tell the difference between Jason and Dermot in a photograph. I _knew_ that Dermot was the cause of all of this. I couldn't prove it, but I knew it with every fiber of my being. But how could I describe Dermot's involvement? How could I put the FBI and Bon Temps police on his trail? Deep in my gut, I knew I couldn't bring Dermot up to the men before me. They'd think I was insane and trying to concoct some nutty story to, once again, help Jason escape from the law. I'd have to handle this myself.

I waited, patiently, and pretended to be unconscious. I needed the time to think and to plan. I also couldn't believe that Alcide was really dead. As I kept my eyes purposefully shut while I lay half-sprawled on the floor and half in Andy's arms, I felt strongly that Alcide was alive; maybe that was wishful thinking.

As time passed and no one corrected my perception of Alcide's well-being, I experienced the sinking feeling that Alcide was truly dead.

I had survived another protector; another protector that I hadn't planned to outlive. Even though Alcide and I had never really been together, I'd fantasized, for the first time in my life, of marriage and children with Alcide. I'd fallen in love with the idea of him and of being a part of his wonderful family. I could feel my heart breaking as it sank in that Alcide was dead. He'd reunited with Maria Star and was at peace.

I had another funeral to attend.

I could hear Andy and Agent Lattesta's words whispering around me, but I just wasn't interested in being fully conscious at the time. There was something comforting in being half-alive, half-conscious. I was vaguely aware of what the two men in my home said, but I wasn't fully aware of what they required from me.

Thinking that I was out cold, Andy and Agent Lattesta grappled with me and placed me as gently as possible on the couch. After laying me out and smoothing down my clothes, Andy grasped my wrist and seemed to be taking my pulse. He took charge and ordered Agent Lattesta to look in my bathroom for a washcloth and to wet it with cold water. Agent Lattesta complied and I could suddenly feel the cold cloth being pressed against my forehead. I guess it was time to get up.

I blinked open my eyes and took in such a strange site. If you'd ever told me that Andy Bellefleur would be gently pressing a cold washcloth on my forehead in an attempt to soothe me, I'd have said fairies, vampires and werewolves were real. Since fairies, vampires and werewolves are very real, I guess it's possible that Andy Bellefleur would try and provide me, Sookie Stackhouse, barmaid and telepath extraordinaire, with comfort. I have to admit it freaked me out a bit. Andy's eyes looked so concerned, that I couldn't help but whisper, "Thank you."

As soon as I opened my eyes, Andy removed his hand from my forehead, leaving the washcloth in place, and quickly scooted to the far side of the couch. Apparently he just wasn't comfortable being that close to me when I'm awake. That's OK. Andy had more than helped me out, and I was grateful for his kindness.

Sighing, I pulled the washcloth off of my forehead and righted myself. Andy and Agent Lattesta looked at me with probing eyes. Andy still seemed concerned, while Agent Lattesta seemed conflicted. As I got my bearings, I concentrated on Agent Lattesta's thoughts.

_She still looks pale. I wonder if she'll pass out again when I show her the photographs. I need to know more about her brother's involvement. This case could make my career. I'm so glad I convinced my supervisors to assign me to the New Orleans field office as a roving inspector when Sara was shot. It'll be awhile before she's up to returning to work. _

I was so tempted to just ask Agent Lattesta to show me the photographs already, but I definitely didn't want to tip my hand. It's infinitely better --- for me --- for him to think I'm some kind of psychic, rather than a telepath. I took a deep, calming breath and glanced at my watch before turning my gaze to my guests. It was 5:55. In five minutes, the sun would set. I wondered how long it would take Eric to come to Bon Temps from Shreveport. I desperately wanted him by my side before discussing the photographs.

For a few minutes, we all sat and stared at each other. I continued to dab the cool washcloth on my forehead and the back of my neck. I certainly wasn't going to be the first to break the silence. Andy seemed to glance at Agent Lattesta, as if waiting for a cue. When Agent Lattesta didn't respond, Andy said, "Sookie, how are you feeling?"

"I'm OK Andy. This has all just been a big shock. I can't believe that Alcide…." I couldn't finish my sentence. I just couldn't say out loud that Alcide Hevereaux was dead. I wasn't ready for that.

"Sookie, I'm sorry you had to learn about your friend so abruptly." He glared at Agent Lattesta. Ever the professional suck-up, Andy said, "We'd assumed you'd already heard the news."

"Obviously, I hadn't."

It may have sounded harsh, but I wanted to put Agent Lattesta on the defensive, as best I could. His mind kept obsessing about photographs and his right hand twitched constantly, reaching for the briefcase sitting on the floor to the right of his chair. Each time he reached for it, he jerked his hand away, thinking _not yet_.

I took a sip of tea and suddenly felt warm and comforted. Drinking sweet tea must have reminded me of Gran. It was like that one sip of tea wrapped me in a blanket of love and I was protected. With the confidence that I wasn't alone in spirit, I looked at my guests and asked, "Gentleman. I think I'm done fainting." I flashed them my best reassuring smile. "Why don't you ask me the questions that brought you here today?" I took another sip of tea for strength.

Agent Lattesta cleared his throat and finally allowed his right hand to grasp the handle of his black leather briefcase. Pulling it into his lap, he opened it and withdrew a thin manila folder. He shut his briefcase with a click and returned it to the floor by his side. His hands traced the outline of the file and a smirk seemed to form with his lips. He was excited.

I peered into his mind and heard, _"Focus on her face. If she knows his activities she'll give it away in her eyes. Just focus on her face. This is how they make the big cases. You can do this."_

I tried to keep my face as neutral as beige paint, but I knew that if Agent Lattesta showed me a picture of Jason or Dermot with the people who killed Alcide, I wouldn't be able to control my emotions. In a sick slow-motion movement, Agent Lattesta purposefully placed the folder on the coffee table, just to the left of my tray of snacks. As his fingers curled and moved to open the file, there was a knock at the door.

* * *

A/N: So…. Who's at the door? Thanks again for the reviews and alerts and for sticking with me! A special thank you to Mrs. Northman is in order. If she hadn't reviewed today, I think I would have kept putting this chapter on the backburner. I know this took _forever_ to get to you, but I've got to say, this chapter tried to kill me. So, please let me know what you think.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out to water the dead grass on my front lawn; maybe it will recover.

**Previously …**

_I tried to keep my face as neutral as beige paint, but I knew that if Agent Lattesta showed me a picture of Jason or Dermot with the people who killed Alcide, I wouldn't be able to control my emotions. In a sick slow-motion movement, Agent Lattesta purposefully placed the folder on the coffee table, just to the left of my tray of snacks. As his fingers curled and moved to open the file, there was a knock at the door._

When I heard the knock on my front door, my heart skipped a beat and my eyes immediately focused on the door. Pulling my eyes away, I realized that both Andy and Agent Lattesta were startled by the sudden noise. I looked at the clock on the mantle and I realized it was 6:00: sunset.

I knew it was too early for any of my vampires to have arrived --- either they lived in Shreveport or they were recovering in some strange home for sick vampires that was definitely not located in my backyard. Truthfully, a part of me didn't care who was at the door; I simply needed a break from the coming inquisition. I knew that Lattesta was moments away from flipping his folder open and showing me pictures of Dermot, or God help him, Jason, in some compromising position with the Guardians. Hoping to delay that moment, I looked at my guests and said, "Excuse me gentleman."

With as much dignity as I could muster, I rose and walked to my front door. Just as I stood before it, someone rapped once on the glass, gently. I pulled the door open and I could not believe my eyes. Standing before me was a gentle looking man in a brown shirt and brown pants. He looked me the eye and said, "Ms. Stackhouse?"

"Yes, that's me," I responded.

"I have a package for you. If you could just sign here," he shoved a rectangular computer thing into my hands. I grasped the black plastic pen and signed my name on the smooth black surface he indicated to me. I handed the pen thing back and he handed me a surprisingly heavy container that was shaped like a shoe box. As soon as the box was in my hands, I looked at the delivery man – UPS? – and whispered, "Thank you." Before I could turn and close the door, the deliveryman was briskly walking down my porch stairs towards his brown delivery van.

More than anything in the world I wanted to follow him. I would have been happy to ride in the back of the truck, surrounded by packages destined for people who weren't being hunted by murderous relatives or entertaining the FBI.

For a moment I just stood there on my porch holding the oddly heavy package, watching the UPS truck rumble down the road until I couldn't see or hear it anymore. Even though I knew it was too early for one of my vampires to arrive. But it wasn't just any vampire I was hoping to see. I wanted my Viking. But, it was too early for Eric; I didn't realize how desperately I'd hoped that he had been the one to knock on my door. My heart surged when I thought of him and how I really wished he was here.

I was definitely verging on sensory overload. All I wanted was for my _company_ to leave and for someone who loved me to walk through the door. I didn't think I could handle Agent Lattesta trying to tell me that Jason was involved in the bombing without someone on my side. I knew that Andy had been kind to me today, but I wasn't about to go looking for comfort from Andy Bellefleur.

Knowing that I'd taken too much time to answer the door and accept my package, I turned and set the box on the narrow table in the entryway. Glancing at it, I saw that the return address was Hevereaux & Sons. I felt as though I had been punched in the stomach and tears came to my eyes. I couldn't imagine why Alcide had sent me a package. I wiped my eyes and tried to calm myself. My instincts told me to keep the package, and its sender, to myself. I took a few deep breaths and made my way back to the living room.

As I made my way back to the couch, I couldn't stop my eyes from looking at the clock. It was 6:15. Surely Eric had felt my fear and sorrow today. I desperately hoped that he'd come to me, but I knew from past experience that even my most desperate hopes and prayers didn't necessarily mean that he'd come to my side. As soon as my memory of the last time I'd prayed for Eric to come to me came to my mind, my body was wracked with the memory of physical pain. I knew then that we needed to talk about why he'd failed me then, but for now, I needed to face my guests. I had to suck it up and be the woman my Gran raised me to be. I'm a strong, independent woman. I didn't need a man by my side, no matter how much I wanted him….thinking of Eric brought memories of last night to mind and I remembered his touch, his kiss…Get a grip Sookie. I've got to get my emotions in check; I'm a mess. I feel like my emotions are changing as quickly as a Jason switches channels with the remote whenever a commercial comes on. Shit. Jason. I need to get to the bottom of this Guardian thing, and that means I have to attend to my guests.

I forced my best crazy Sookie smile on my face as I returned to the living room to face Agent Lattesta and to sit next to Andy on my couch.

"Gentleman," I said, "I'm so sorry for the interruption. Where were we?"

Agent Lattesta fingered the manila folder he'd laid on the coffee table with a subtle caress. As he almost lovingly fingered the file, he looked me in the eye and asked, "Ms. Stackhouse, what do you know about your brother's political affiliations?"

I almost laughed at Agent Lattesta's question. Anyone who knew Jason would know that he had no political affiliations at all. I didn't think he was even registered to vote.

"Honestly, Agent Lattesta, to my knowledge, Jason doesn't have any political affiliations. I don't even think he's registered to vote." I said. "Even if he did, what would that have to do with the bomb yesterday?" I knew he wouldn't tell me everything so I tried to listen to his thoughts, while keeping up with the conversation.

"_He helped plan it and you know it," _Agent Lattesta thought.

Agent Lattesta seemed to completely ignore my response. "Ms. Stackhouse, how familiar are you _personally_ with the Guardians of the Light?"

"Honestly, I'd never heard of them before yesterday. All I know is that yesterday some of them showed up at Tray's funeral and said all sorts of nasty things." I paused, and looked at Andy and said, "But you should already know that because I told Andy that yesterday."

Agent Lattesta cleared his throat and continued to caress the folder he'd placed on the coffee table. "Yes, I know what you told Detective Bellefleur yesterday, but I'm wondering if you didn't give him the full story."

"What do you mean the full story?" I asked. "I told Andy everything." I searched out Andy's eyes for reassurance, and his beamed back to me his confidence that we'd discussed everything of importance.

Agent Lattesta slowly traced the outline of the folder on the coffee table while staring at me intently. "I understand why you feel the need to protect your brother, but let's be honest Ms. Stackhouse. You knew the Guardians' plans yesterday and you knew because your brother is one of the masterminds. You put yourself in a place of almost-danger, but let others die in your place. Your _friend_ Alicide, for example." He grinned at me mercilessly; Agent Lattesta enjoyed his work.

Agent Lattesta's words pierced through me. I _knew _I was responsible for Alcide's death. I'd known it from the moment I'd read Lattesta's mind and heard that he suspected Jason. Of course, I knew or at least I believed that Jason wasn't involved, but that didn't stop the bile from stirring in my stomach. I didn't know how much more I could take. So many deaths were properly placed at my feet – Claudine, Clancy, Tray…even Bill's injuries were my fault….And now, Alcide. I didn't know how I could ever look his sister in the eyes, if what I guessed turned out to be the truth. Ever since I'd heard Agent Lattesta's thoughts I'd become increasingly convinced that Dermot was somehow responsible for yesterday's bombing. If that were true, I was responsible. I knew that he'd hoped I'd died yesterday, but his plans were thwarted by random luck.

I felt sick.

I struggled to maintain my composure as I looked at Agent Lattesta and said, "Before yesterday, I didn't know that the Guardians even existed. All I've ever heard of before then was the Fellowship of the Sun. I know that you don't know my brother, but if you did, you'd know he's never been the mastermind of anything." As I finished speaking, I turned my head to stare at Andy, seeking his reassurance and confirmation that Jason was the last person in Bon Temps to be the leader or involved in any kind of conspiracy. Want someone on your billiards team, sure Jason would be a great asset, unless something pretty in a short skirt walked by. Jason has his priorities. Always has, always will. There's no way that Jason would be involved in anything as complicated as a conspiracy. He simply didn't have the attention span.

When Andy wouldn't meet my gaze to show me he shared my opinion that Jason wasn't involved, I knew that I was in trouble. He blushed slightly and stared at Agent Lattesta, his federal idol. It shouldn't have surprised me that when it came down to it, Andy would put his respect for the FBI above his affections, such as they were, for me. I was alone in this, and I simply needed to face it. I also knew that I needed to stand up for myself.

Taking a deep breath I prayed for strength and said, "Agent Lattesata, your insinuations are offensive. I can't begin to guess what disgusting lies you could possibly believe that would lead you to think that I had anything to do with the tragedy that happened yesterday. I cannot believe you can have the gall to sit here, in my home, while enjoying my hospitality, and accuse me of such complicity (Word of the Day!). A man I cared deeply about died yesterday. So many people were hurt; it was terrible. I'd never hurt anyone. How can you even suggest it?" As I finished speaking, I turned to Andy hoping that he would understand why I was so upset. A slight blush graced Andy's cheeks, which I attributed to his feeling at least a little bit ashamed of his role in Agent Lattesta's accusations. A few traitor tears slipped from my eyes as I thought about Alicde.

Agent Lattesta cleared his throat and began to speak, again, fingering the manila folder on the coffee table, "Ms. Stackhouse, I want to make sure that I'm clear. You're stating that before yesterday you'd never heard of the Guardians?"

"Yes. I'd never heard of them before we saw them at the Church."

"You're positive."

"Am I not being clear? I'd never heard of them before!"

"And once you saw them for the first time at the Church, you didn't become aware of their plans, perhaps by using your special intuition?"

I slowly sipped my tea, killing time. Shit. How to answer that question? Obviously, I didn't hear anything, or I would have stopped it. But how can I answer that without revealing my little disability?

I returned my glass to its perch on the coffee table, and looked up at Agent Lattesta and said, "I'm sorry; it's been a heck of a day. I'm afraid I didn't understand your question." I needed to know what he was thinking, so I listened in.

"_Bullshit she didn't understand me. Does she think I'm stupid? I know she's some kind of psychic. I bet she figured out the plot but didn't want to say anything so her brother didn't get busted. She knew the bomb was in the hearse. Maybe she wanted that Alcide guy to die. I'd heard they used to be involved. Maybe he dumped her."_

Listening in to Agent Lattesta's thoughts made it incredibly difficult for me to hold my temper. To keep myself calm, I closed my eyes and tried to think of things that relaxed me. Sunbathing, lotion, warm sun rays, Eric's cool, gentle touch, his lips on mine, the way he made me ache for him to fill me…I could feel blood rush to my cheeks, coloring them in a pinkish blush. Well, now I was calm, and kind of worked up. Not appropriate Sookie. I should have stuck to fantasizing about sunbathing.

Agent Lattesta cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair. He seemed to be getting impatient with me. "Ms. Stackhouse are you still with us?" _Is she mentally defective? _"I asked you, given your special ability, why you didn't prevent the bombing yesterday? Would you like to see what you should have prevented?" With that, he flipped open his precious manila folder and showed me color pictures zoomed in on yesterday's horror.

Flip.

The smoking remains of the hearse that had held Tray.

Flip.

A close-up of a child's shoe, flung by the blast into the street.

Flip.

The vacant eyes of Tray's wife's lifeless body, staring up at the roof of the car.

Flip.

The blood-smeared seat that Alcide had occupied.

Flip.

Alcide in the morgue.

Flip.

Jason shaking hands with the scary old man who'd shouted at us at the funeral?

Flip.

Jason leaving The Cub Restaurant in Shreveport with three men and a woman I recognize as Helen Ellis, Arlene's FoTS pal?

Flip.

Jason's truck parked at the Cub Restaurant?

Flip.

Jason loading fertilizer into his truck at a hardware store?

I didn't understand what was happening. My thoughts were swirling and completely incoherent. It felt like half of my brain was processing the horrific images of yesterday's carnage, while the other half tried to make sense of the pictures of my brother that Agent Lattesta had quickly breezed through.

I don't think I'd blinked once throughout Lattesta's picture show. I turned to look at Andy to gauge his reaction, and his face held few clues. He seemed torn between the allure of the investigative power of the FBI and the horror of seeing firsthand the glossy pictures that documented yesterday's carnage. Agent Lattesta shuffled through the stack of pictures and put two side by side, on top of the others, facing me. The image to my left was Alcide, cold and dead in the morgue. The picture on my right was my brother Jason, warm and smiling, shaking hands with a killer.

My hand involuntarily traced the outlines of Alcide's face and tears streamed down my own. I didn't know what to make of the photographs of Jason. I didn't understand. While I thought it could be Dermot's face in the pictures, I couldn't figure out what Jason's truck would be doing in the parking lot. His truck is pretty recognizable, what with its custom paint job. I didn't understand the importance of the picture of Jason loading his truck with fertilizer and equipment, but I'm sure the smug jerk in front of me would.

Just as Agent Lattesta was about to renew his questioning of me, I started to feel warm, safe. I knew that Eric was near. Before I could finish the thought, I heard a knock on the door.

I honestly don't think I've ever moved so quickly to answer the door. Before I could blink, I was on my feet and my right hand was grasping for the doorknob. My heart felt like it was swelling in my chest, and I had difficulty breathing deeply. As soon as I swung the ancient door open, Eric crushed me in his embrace. I was surrounded by him. His chin rested on the top of my head as his wrapped his long arms around me. Inhaling deeply he took in my scent and seemed to rock me gently, side to side, for just a moment.

"I know you have company lover. What has you so upset?"

I whispered in his ear, "It's been a terrible day. I needed you, and I'm so glad you're here now. There's much to say, but we can't talk yet. The FBI is here."

As soon as I mentioned the FBI, Eric stiffened and straightened to his full height. Even if he wasn't a powerful vampire sheriff, Eric standing tall was a force to be reckoned with. His face hardened into a scowl and the playful glimmer of blue that had danced in his eyes when he'd first greeted me had turned into an icy cold stare. He disentangled himself from me, but kept one hand clasped in mine. Bending to my ear he growled, "I thought I made it clear that you were not to talk to the FBI without me or one of mine with you." His anger pulsed through his words.

Like my vampire, my anger was just beginning to awaken from its slumber. "Now is not the time for this conversation Eric. Agent Lattesta thinks my _brother_ was involved with the bombing yesterday and he just showed me terrible pictures, including one of Alcide who is…" my breathing became choppy and traitor tears cascaded down my cheeks. I channeled all of my anger, frustration and fear into the hand that was clasped in Eric's. I squeezed his hand with all of my strength, letting all of my energy flow into that one small part of my body. Of course, Eric didn't flinch, but I knew he could feel how hard I was clasping him. I knew he could feel through my hand and our bond my anguish, anger, fear and sadness.

He pulled me back into his arms, my breasts pressed forcefully into his chest. His free arm stroked my back in small circles in a soothing gesture. "We'll talk of this later. Now we must finish with the human lawmen."

With that, Eric released me from his tight embrace and strode into the living room purposefully. His left hand still clung to mine. Agent Lattesta and Andy looked up and slowly took in the powerful man that was Eric Northman. They both stood. Andy extended his hand in greeting. Eric looked at him like he was a slug drowning in cheap beer, weak and beyond help. I'm sure Eric was remembering the last time he'd encountered Andy. If memory serves, Eric was attired in hot pink lycra at the time. Agent Lattesta seemed to sense the otherworldly, powerful side of Eric and stood and nodded. He introduced himself, "I'm Agent Lattesta, Federal Bureau of Investigation. And you are?...."

"Eric Northman, I am Sookie's…"

Before Eric could say anything, I interjected.

"Friend. Eric's my good friend, Agent Lattesta. He's just here to check on me, especially since, you know, Amelia's gone and I'm here alone and all." I was terrified that Eric would have said something to Agent Lattesta about our ceremonial vampire cult wedding. The last thing I needed was for it to get around Bon Temps that Crazy Sookie had married a vampire. I may love Eric, but we still had a lot to sort out. Our forced marriage was just one item on a fairly long list.

Eric looked slightly pained when I referred to him as my "friend,"but he seemed to take it in stride. He looked to Agent Lattesta and asked, "What is your purpose here? I'm sure you understand that Sookie has been through a terrible ordeal and needs her rest. I was under the impression that she had spoken to local law enforcement yesterday. What more did you need from her?"

"Sir, that's a confidential matter that we don't need to spread around town. We were just about finished with Ms. Stackhouse. Why don't you give us a few more minutes alone, and we'll be on our way and the two of you can begin your evening."

Eric looked at Agent Lattesta like he wanted to kill him. "Agent Lattesta, I can't believe you're so foolish to think that anyone who cares about Sookie would ever let her speak to the FBI alone. I'm surprised that Mr. …. Bellefleur, was it? I'm surprised he didn't suggest to Sookie that she have someone else around while you questioned her. It was obvious to me when I first arrived that you've managed to upset Ms. Stackhouse greatly. I can't believe it's FBI protocol to invade the homes of young women who've experienced trauma and to traumatize them again, is it?" While Eric's words seemed reasonable, his tone was nothing but threatening. Each word was spoken as though it were a code. You know how some people say that if you play a Beatle's album backwards you can hear hidden messages? I think if you'd played Eric's words backwards, the message would have been clear: Agent Lattesta, you have upset Sookie, my bonded. If you persist, I will happily kill you. I don't mind; I haven't eaten a full meal in a while.

While Agent Lattesta seemed unfazed by Eric's words, it was obvious to me that Andy heard his subliminal message loud and clear. As soon as Eric stopped speaking, Andy was on his feet, apologizing for the late hour and begging with his eyes for Agent Lattesta to follow his lead. To his credit, Lattesta seemed to understand that he wouldn't be able to question me with Eric present. He slowly picked up his picture show, pausing to make sure that Eric saw every image of Jason and every image from the bombing. Once his manila folder was packed away in his briefcase, Agent Lattesta turned to me and said with a smile, "Ms. Stackhouse, it has been such a pleasure to spend time with you. Thank you for the wonderful tea and snacks. I truly appreciate your hospitality. We'll talk soon, I guarantee it." With a sneer in my direction, he walked around Eric and Andy and let himself out the front door. Andy, following behind said, "Sookie, you take care of yourself. Don't get yourself into bigger trouble over family. You know it won't come to any good."

A/N: So…. I wrote this on the plane traveling from Denver to San Diego and back. It was a fun way to write, until the woman sitting next to me go more interested in this chapter than her book. It kind of creeped me out.

Anyway….what do you think is in Sookie's package? Do you really think Alcide sent it?

Much love and thanks to everyone who reviews, adds this to their favorites or alerts! I'm humbled that someone other than me reads this. Let me know what you think!


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just inviting her beloved characters into my home so that they can do my dishes and mop my floors.

I closed the door behind Agent Lattesta and Andy. Leaning against the door, I looked over at Eric who was eyeing me curiously. He searched my face for answers. The more he stared at me, the more his facial expressions changed. Concern, confusion, anger, lust, concern, love, anger pulsed through the bond, hitting me like the first large drops of a late summer rain.

I was exhausted. The stress of the afternoon began to bleed away, and I started to feel weak. The strength I had tried to convey to Agent Lattesta and Andy was fading, and fear was slowly taking its place. Involuntarily, my hands clenched into fists at my side and I looked into Eric's eyes. I wanted nothing more than to become lost in their clear blue water.

In an instant Eric stood before me. His large strong hands cupped my face gently and his thumbs brushed away tears that had begun to fall. Kissing my forehead, he took a deep breath and brushed his fingertips down my neck, ghosting my collarbone and caressing my shoulders and arms as he pulled me to him, locking me in his embrace. With his arms wrapped around me, I let everything go. My fear, my anger, melted away as I gave myself over to him, placing myself in his care. For just this moment, a matter of a few heartbeats, I surrendered to Eric. His right hand clasped the back of my head and he tilted it back so that I was once again looking into his eyes. We did not speak out loud, yet so much was being said through our bodies and our bond. Eric kissed my forehead and brought his cheek to mine before bringing his lips to gently brush against mine in an innocent kiss of comfort.

His right hand drifted from the back of my head to my upper back as he bent and brought his left arm behind my knees. He pulled me into his arms and carried me into my bedroom. He laid me gently on my bed, adjusting the pillow behind me to ensure my comfort before pulling away. His hands gently traced the outline of my body from my shoulders to my hips before gently caressing my thighs, softly rubbing the sensitive skin behind my knees, before caressing my legs down to my calves. When he reached my ankles, he rubbed them gently before removing my shoes. He stood and walked into my bathroom. Glancing over his shoulder he said, "I'm going to draw you a bath. Close your eyes. Rest."

My eyes drifted shut when I heard the water begin to run. Eric walked from the bathroom and I could hear him moving in my kitchen, opening the refrigerator door. When I heard the microwave begin to run, I knew he was warming up a blood. I curled up onto my side, drawing my knees to my chest, my arms around them. It was like the absence of Eric's touch invited my fear to crawl into my body, poisoning me slowly.

I willed my mind to stay clear, to try to think of happy thoughts…sunshine, the smell of Gran's homemade pecan pie, the feel of Eric's lips on mine. My head began to ache from concentrating so hard; my fear was strong, too strong for me to evade it with simple happy thoughts; worthless wishful thinking. I could feel my terror stabbing away at me, trying to pierce the bubble of tranquility that I was desperately trying to create in my mind.

The ding of the microwave brought me out of my reverie; I nearly screamed in fright at the sound. I could feel my heart racing and my hands began to shake. I was consumed by fear; the fire of fear licked at my skin. I knew Dermot wanted me dead and he would stop at nothing until he succeeded. I also knew from firsthand experience that no one could protect me when the Fae wanted to hurt me. Against my will, my memories of my torture at the hands of Neave and Lochlan saturated my mind and overtook my body.

Eric raced into my bedroom and stared at me in shock. His fangs were down and he scanned the room as though looking for an enemy to attack. I must have looked so strange to him, huddled in a ball on my bed, my hair splayed wildly across the lacy pillowcase, my eyes wide with terror, my mouth open as if to scream but soundless. In an instant he was at my side, pulling me into his arms. His body wrapped me in its strong cocoon. "Sookie, what is it? Why are you so frightened lover?" He rocked me gently, waiting for my reply. Goosebumps rose on my flesh, yet I wasn't cold. I turned to look at him and whispered, "Dermot…He sent me a letter. He…he wants me dead."

Eric's body tensed and I swear he growled. I could feel his anger beginning to build almost as if it fed off my fear. I struggled to turn in his arms. I needed to look him in the eye and seek the comfort of his gaze. As our eyes met, I could feel his anger beginning to ebb and slowly transform into comfort and love. As he calmed, he relaxed his hold on me, but did not let my body escape his embrace. He nuzzled my neck and placed his cool lips on every piece of skin he could reach. He murmured in his native tongue. While I couldn't make out the words, they seemed meant to comfort and reassure me. His fingers reached for the bottom of my t-shirt and began to pull it off. I willingly assisted and pressed my lips to his as he pulled the last of the cotton over my arms. I ground my hips to his and he hissed into my ear, "Soon. Now I'm going to wash this day off of you."

I'm pretty sure I pouted, but I allowed him to gently remove my sweats and underwear. Once again he took me in his arms, and he carried me into the bathroom. I slid into the warmth of the tub, through a four-inch thick layer of silky bubbles. I marveled that my Viking had not only drawn me a bath but had taken the time to prepare it with my favorite bubbles. Eric turned the water off and pulled my shampoo and conditioner out of my shower caddy. Placing them on the lip of the tub he found my washcloth and folded it carefully over the edge of the tub. He pulled one of my hair clips out of the plastic bin I stored them in and placed it on the floor to the side of the tub. He was like a surgeon preparing his tools before an operation.

The hot water and cool bubbles surrounded and soothed me. I closed my eyes and breathed in the relaxing scent of my favorite lavender bubble bath. The feel of Eric's strong lean body sliding into the tub behind me sent shivers of pleasure down my spine, forcing the last remnants of fear out of my body. When I was close to Eric, fear could not touch me.

"Put your head under the water and wet your hair love."

As I slid down Eric's body to wet my hair, I could feel his erection rubbing up my back. Once my hair was wet, I slowly rose and leaned again into his chest. The familiar click of my shampoo bottle opening was followed by Eric's hands gently lathering shampoo into my scalp. As he massaged my hair he said, "Tell me everything."

The slow, rhythmic movement of Eric's fingers on my scalp was hypnotic. His touch made it seem like everything would be okay. I found my voice and said, "When I went to check my mail, I found it, the letter from Dermot." Eric's hands paused; he seemed to be steadying himself, as though willing himself to hear this without going into a rage. After a moment, his fingers resumed their luxurious pace. "Once I read it, once I saw that he's here and wants me dead, I passed out. The next thing I knew Andy and Agent Lattesta were standing over me."

Eric said simply, "Rinse."

Once again, I slid down his body in order to plunge my soapy hair beneath the water. I could still feel his arousal beneath me, but I was too nervous about telling him my story to properly appreciate it. With my hair underwater, Eric swirled my hair to get the shampoo out. When he was satisfied with his work, he pulled me back up to his chest.

I heard the click of my conditioner bottle, just as Eric said, "Continue." His fingers trailed the satiny conditioner through my hair, seemingly one strand at a time. As the day's events replayed in my mind, I kept getting stuck on the moment I knew that Alcide was dead. Grief swelled within me and seemed to constrict my throat. I could feel the pressure of tears building behind my eyes and I began to feel nauseous. Eric's hands moved from my hair as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. He whispered into my ear, "Tell me."

Telling Eric would make it real.

My breathing became uneven and the guilt wouldn't fade. Rather, it grew until I felt it would consume me. I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Eric pressed his lips to my ear, and slowly kissed down my throat. He paused, then placed a gentle kiss on each shoulder, before moving his lips to my other ear. After gently kissing it, he whispered again, "Tell me."

"Eric," I murmured. "Alcide is dead."

"I know."

What? I was confused for a moment, before I realized that Eric had seen Agent Lattesta's twisted version of show and tell. There was no mistaking the mark of death on the picture of Alcide that had lain upon my coffee table.

Eric kissed each of my shoulders and gently ran his hands down my arms. Once again he commanded, "Rinse."

As I floated above him with my hair in beneath the water, I stared at the ceiling, my mind blank. His confident hands gently rinsed the conditioner from my hair. It was like he was rinsing the guilt away, making room for my inevitable sadness. Once I thought I could love Alcide. Like most fantasies, it wasn't meant to be. Despite that, I did love Alcide, in my way. Despite his penchant to try to use my gift for his and the Pack's benefit, Alcide had always stood strong by my side when I'd needed him. I knew that, like Tray, I would grieve Alcide. I would cherish my happy memories of him and I would mourn the loss of a good man.

Done rinsing my hair, Eric pulled me back up into his embrace. He gently squeezed the excess water out of my hair before twisting it and pulling it up in one of my clips; it must have been the one he'd laid on the floor beside the tub. My hair clean, Eric turned his attention to my body. He wet my washcloth and lathered it with soap. "Turn around."

With Eric's help, I rotated my body. He grasped my left leg, and lifting it above the water, began to wash it, beginning with my foot. Looking into my eyes he said, "Tell me the rest."

I didn't know where to start. All I knew were my suspicions that Dermot was behind yesterday's bombing and that somehow he was trying to implicate Jason. That Agent Lattesta had shown me pictures of Jason, or Dermot, was seemingly damning, but the most compelling pieces of evidence, to me, were the pictures of Jason's truck. My brother loved that truck almost as much as himself. The custom paint job was proof akin to Jason's own fingerprint. I didn't understand why Jason would have been at the bar in Shreveport and I didn't understand why Lattesta was so obsessed with the picture of Jason loading fertilizer into his truck. It struck me in that moment that I hadn't questioned where Lattesta got the pictures of Jason.

As Eric slowly washed every part of my left leg, I tried to gather my thoughts. Before I could find my words, he released my leg and drew my right leg above the water. Repeating his motions, he lathered my right leg, beginning with a gentle massage of my foot. Looking into his eyes I knew he was waiting for my story.

"I don't really understand the rest. You saw the pictures Lattesta brought. At first glance, it seems like either Jason's actually involved with the Guardians or else someone is doing a great job of setting him up." As I spoke, Eric carefully washed my leg as gently as though it were the finest piece of china.

He released my leg, and it drifted below the water before he said, "You think Dermot is the man in the photographs."

"I want to believe that. Honestly, if there hadn't been pictures of Jason's truck, I really would have thought that all of the pictures were Dermot. But I can't figure out how Dermot got Jason's truck there." I needed the solace of being completely submerged, so I dunked my head below the water. As I rose, and wiped the bathwater from my eyes, I looked at Eric and said, "My greatest fear is that Jason is somehow involved."

Eric looked at me with questioning eyes and I said, "You've got to understand. Jason has always felt apart from me and from Gran really. Ever since our parents died, he never really fit in with the rest of our family. A part of me thinks that he's always resented how close I was to Gran. And he was really offended that Niall didn't want anything to do with him. So I keep thinking that since Dermot warned him about Mel, that maybe Jason feels some kind of connection to him. I know you don't know Jason…"

"I remember him." Eric's tone was cold, and I knew he was referring to his recovered memories of Jason, and how Jason viewed Eric as a meal ticket he could cash in on….after I'd done all the work.

"So you remember that he's stupid and greedy, and selfish and so many things." My heart surged in my chest in anguish as I said, "But he's still my brother. I know he would never knowingly hurt anyone, but he's naïve and it's possible that he met with those Guardian people and it's possible that Dermot has somehow manipulated him into this position….Agent Lattesta thinks he's guilty."

I scooted forward in the tub until my chest was pressed against Eric's and my legs were wrapped around his waist. I wasn't trying to seduce him, but I needed to be close to him. "Oh God, Eric. What if Jason _is_ involved? What can I do? He's all the family I have left!" With that, I buried my head in Eric's shoulder and he wrapped his arms around my back. His fingers began to gently massage my back in small circular motions. Through our bond, I felt Eric's frustration and anger rise again. After a moment, those feelings subsided, shifting to a blank nothingness that only served to confuse me. He gripped me tightly in his arms and kissed my forehead before saying, "Come. Let us go to your bed; there is much to be done."

Had this been any other night, Eric's words would have sent shivers down my spine and I know my body would have stood at attention. Sadly, I knew he wasn't referring to mind blowing sex. Ever the calculating sheriff, I knew that Eric was plotting his, I guess "our," next move. With a nod I acquiesced and rose from the tub.

As soon as my wet body emerged from the now lukewarm water, Eric wrapped me in a towel. Somehow he'd managed to dry himself off and wrap a towel around his waist. It's funny that I knew he meant we needed to talk business when I saw the white towel wrapped around some of my favorite parts of him. It's like he was shielding himself. When he gently dried my body and secured the towel around my breasts, I knew that we weren't retreating to my bed for my idea of comfort. No. It was to be all business. Once my towel was secure, Eric led me into my bedroom. He left me standing alongside my bed. I wasn't sure what to do, so I just stood there. My answer came when he draped my robe across my shoulders and gently removed the towel. Before he drew each side of the robe around me and secured it with the tie at my waist he made sure to check that my breasts were covered by the fabric. If there ever was a signal that Sookie isn't going to have sex now, it would be Eric wrapping me in a robe and personally knotting the tie.

Business it is.

Eric stepped into his pants and immediately brought his cell phone to his ear. He moved so quickly I didn't even see him dial. "Pam. Come." With that he hung up the phone and returned it to its home in his front pocket. His right arm wrapped around my waist and he guided me into the living room.

"We need to talk. Pam is coming."

"I thought as much from the command you just issued. Can I get you a blood? I'm going to make myself some tea." I didn't wait for his response. I was irritated at his command to Pam and was worried that he would start to issue commands to me. I saw Eric sit on the couch as I made my way to the kitchen. I grabbed Amelia's teapot from its home on the stove and filled it with water. I didn't usually drink tea, but I felt like some of her chamomile would be soothing tonight. Even though Eric hadn't requested a blood, I felt like I needed to warm one for him. The blood he'd made for himself earlier had long gone cold, and I knew that TruBlood was nasty once reheated. As such, I pulled a fresh bottle from the fridge and popped it into the microwave.

As the blood and the water warmed, I wondered just what Eric thought he could do to help me and Jason to get out of this predicament. Exhausted, I stared into the microwave and watched the bottle of blood rotate on the microwave's circular plate, round and round. The hum of the appliance was soothing and the light set off a warm glow. Behind me on the stove I could hear the water start to bubble within the kettle. Soon it would be screaming for release. While the blood warmed and the water boiled, I opened Amelia's tea cabinet searching for comfort tea. I quickly found what I was looking for, a bag of Celestial Seasonings' Sleepytime tea. Amelia said it always relaxed her, and I needed relaxing more than anything.

The microwave announced with a ding that the blood was ready just as the kettle began to whistle. I put a teabag in a cup and drowned it in steaming hot water before pulling Eric's blood from the microwave. Grasping our drinks in my hands, I returned to the living room, only to hear Eric whispering speedily into his phone.

I tried to pretend that Eric was on the phone with Fangtasia, checking in on the night's take. But I knew he was plotting something. I set our drinks down on the coffee table and sat on the couch to his left. Instinctively, his left arm wrapped around me and drew me into his body. Nestled there, in the crook of his arm with my head on his shoulder, I felt so incredibly peaceful. I had to push myself from his iron grip to reach my tea. Taking a sip, I looked at him. I don't know if I've ever appreciated Eric's beauty before. Beauty may seem like a strange word to describe him, but Eric truly was beautiful. His strong face was highlighted by his outrageously blue eyes. They could be almost teal in lamplight or the deepest blue at dusk. They could turn almost navy-black with rage or aqua with lust. His blond hair rings the hard lines of his face like a halo; half the time I swear his hair glows. I know it sounds strange, but that's how it seems to me. His cheekbones are clearly defined and his sharp nose is a map leading down to the softest lips that have ever suckled my breasts.

Sipping my tea, looking at Eric, I was becoming aroused. Again. I wasn't sure what it was about this man that turned me on, but he definitely had the magic look. And touch.

Eric hung up the phone and reached for the blood I'd warmed up for him. After taking a sip, he turned to me and said, "Thank you Sookie."

With that, we settled in. Me drinking my tea, Eric drinking a blood. I knew we were waiting for Pam, but our interaction seemed oddly domestic…as long as you ignored the fact that my companion was drinking synthetic blood. That thought reminded me of Alcide, and how normal, or easy, things would have been with him, in comparison to my relationships with Bill or Eric.

As I sipped my tea, I pondered how odd it was that a dead man was the one who made me feel most alive.

I was grateful for the silence. So much had happened today that I wasn't prepared to process. It was so reassuring to sit here, next to Eric, drinking my tea without being pressured to talk more. My mind wandered to Amelia. I was surprised she hadn't yet sent me a text or left me a message. She should have arrived in New Orleans hours ago. Just as I began to worry about her, I heard three sharp raps on my door. I didn't need to look at Eric to know that Pam had arrived.

Eric quickly rose to his feet and unlocked the front door, ushering her in. Pam barreled across the threshold and stepped into the entryway. As she moved to place her purse on the table in the entrance, she stiffened and asked in a hushed voice, "Who brought this into the house?"

Eric stepped immediately to her side. It took me a moment to get off of the couch and to walk to Pam's other side. She hadn't moved and was standing stiffly in front of the small table Amelia and I had placed in the entryway. Other than Pam's purse and a wooden elephant Gran had collected years ago the table was bare…..except for the package I'd accepted from the UPS guy hours ago.

I approached Pam's side and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Really Sookie? You have to ask? Who brought this," she gestured to the package, "into your home?"

"UPS delivered it today. I forgot about it until now."

Pam didn't move, and she inclined her head to Eric. Her eyes narrowing, she said, "You didn't smell this?"

Eric stared at Pam and then looked at me. Without breaking his gaze he said, "Just what do _you_ smell Pamela?"

Pam seemed to sneer at Eric before she said, "Fae. This box is coated in the smell of Fae. And don't try to tell me that this is Sookie's scent. I know how she smells. What the fuck is this?"

Pam's perfectly manicured index finger continued to point at the box which I'd believed had been sent by Alcide. I couldn't reconcile that with Pam's obvious sense that it had been touched by a Fae. Her fangs were down, making her usually suburban appearance seem menacing. Before I could move, I saw Eric stalking slowly towards the package, like a cat tracking unsuspecting prey. When he reached Pam, his strong arm nudged her out of his way. He brought his face to the box and breathed in deeply.

When his fangs descended and his eyes clouded with lust, I knew that he agreed with Pam's assessment; a Fae had sent or touched the box. Curious, I moved towards them. Eric turned to face me, and his eyes were clouded with rage. This combined with his obvious arousal and descended fangs honestly frightened me. I stepped back and took in the sight of the two completely lethal, yet aroused, creatures who crouched in my entryway.

Neither Pam nor Eric seemed capable of stepping away from the mysterious package that the ubiquitous (Word of the Day!) UPS guy had dropped off earlier. While the box itself had seemed heavy, it didn't seem particularly dangerous or intriguing.

"OK. You both are acting way too dramatic. Pam, it's wonderful to see you, can I get you a blood?"

I stared at Pam, and she ignored me. It was like she was hypnotized by the brown paper wrapped box.

"Eric! Your blood is getting cold. Would you escort Pam into the living room?" Even my entreaties for common civility failed. Eric couldn't take his eyes from the box. I wondered why he wasn't so captivated when he first entered my home tonight….unless my presence, my scent, was enough to draw him away. With both of them acting like fangy zombies, I knew I needed to try and draw Eric's attention. As such, I walked steadily towards him, and gently placed my hand on his arm.

At my touch, Eric's eyes met mine. "Eric. Come with me and sit down. I'll bring Pam in and we can all have a drink." Without speaking, Eric let me guide him into the living room and he sat on the couch. Once Eric was situated, I approached Pam. Placing my hand on her forearm I said, "Pam, it's so good to see you. Come with me and I'll get you a blood." Just like Eric, Pam let me lead her into the living room and she sat docilely on the couch. Once I was sure she wasn't going anywhere, I retreated to the kitchen to warm up a blood for her.

After putting a blood in the microwave, I felt compelled to call Amelia. In addition to wanting to check on her, I was curious to hear her take on the strange response of my vampires to the package I'd received today. Picking up my cell phone, I dialed Amelia's number. I was surprised that it went straight to voicemail. Regardless, I left a message, voicing my concerns and inquiring about her well being. I also told her how much I missed her. I knew she'd only been gone for a few hours, but I was used to seeing her, and I missed her.

With a robotic ding, I knew that Pam's blood was ready. Pulling it from the microwave, I began to process the meaning of the package that I'd thought was from Alcide that was obviously drenched in the smell of Fae.

A/N: Well, can you believe it? Two updates in less than 24 hours? It was a slow day at the gallery (it rained). So if you like this, show me the love. Many humble thanks to all who have reviewed, or added this story to alerts or favorites. I can't believe that this story has 85 reviews already. I think I'll freak out if this breaks 100. I'm serious when I write that I'm humbled by every review. I'm truly a grateful girl. Thank you for reading.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just inviting her beloved characters put the dead bird my cat killed this morning into the dumpster. I wish I was kidding. It creeps my husband out, so I have to do it myself ….

Something about the package was seriously messing with Pam and Eric. I'd seen Pam get lusty over Claude and Claudine, but I'd never seen her or Eric so transfixed. If this package could completely occupy their thoughts because of its scent or contents, I knew I was in over my head. It seemed obvious to me that Dermot was the sender of the package. Since I knew he lusted for my death, I believed the package was dangerous. That smelling a brown paper wrapped box had practically immobilized Eric and Pam, I knew I needed living backup. I needed Sam.

Before returning to the living room with Pam's blood, I grabbed my cell phone and scrolled for Sam's number. After a moment, he answered. The din of drunken conversations confirmed that he was still at Merlottes.

"Sookie. How are you? How's Amelia?"

"Amelia left this morning for New Orleans. Sam, I need your help. How soon can you get to my place?"

"Eric just called me a few minutes ago, saying that he needed to talk. What's this about?"

"I don't know about Eric calling you, but I've got an emergency here. I don't want to explain it over the phone. Can you come?"

Sam paused before responding to me, and I could hear him asking someone if they'd be willing to close the bar up for him tonight. I didn't hear their response, but within a heartbeat Sam's voice returned to the phone, "I'll be there in ten minutes. Hang tight."

Satisfied that Sam would be able to help me sort this out, I grasped Pam's blood and returned to the living room. I placed Pam's blood before her on the coffee table and lowered myself into the easy chair across from her. I carefully adjusted my robe to preserve my modesty and slowly looked up at my vampires. Eric and Pam's fangs had retracted, but they both looked distinctly unsettled. Inwardly I was relieved to know that Sam was on his way, but I knew I needed to tell Eric and Pam that I'd called for outside support. Leaning forward as gracefully as I could, I grasped my now lukewarm teacup in my hands. Taking a sip, I mustered my courage and said, "Sam is on his way. I want him to take a look at the box."

Eric's eyes locked onto mine, and I could sense his conflicted feelings through our bond. Even though his face seemed composed, I could tell that he was somehow at war with himself. The emotions that coursed through my body via his shifted quickly from anger to jealousy to a steely calm that I found unsettling. Pam took a long draw from her bottle of TruBlood before placing it back on the coffee table. Looking from Eric to me she said, "Would someone like to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

I looked at Eric and he returned my gaze. I certainly didn't know what to say to respond to Pam's blunt query, and Eric, well Eric seemed like he was lost in thought. Since I had no hope of knowing what was running through his mind, I turned to Pam and said, "Obviously the package I received today has some sort of strange effect on vampires. I'm certainly not going to open it by myself, so I…I called Sam. He'll be here any minute."

Pam took in my words and glanced at Eric before saying, "As much as I dislike the shifter, it would be best if someone else took a look at the box." Returning her gaze to me Pam asked, "Where is Amelia? Wouldn't a witch be the best person to assist?"

"Amelia left this morning for New Orleans. I called her but just got her voicemail." Pam still looked confused so I continued, "Dermot sent me a letter today. He, well, he threatened me in it."

At my words, Eric stiffened and said, "Bring us the letter."

I couldn't remember what happened to the letter, but when I walked through the foyer, I noticed it sitting atop the pile of mail in the alcove built into the wall. Originally created to place a rotary phone, Amelia and I had used the space to store our mail. I gingerly picked up the letter, grasping it lightly between my thumb and index finger; I didn't want to touch more of it than was necessary. I held the thin paper out away from my body and returned to the living room, offering it to Eric for his perusal.

Once he took the paper from my hand he glanced at it and said, "Sookie, this is your list of things to do today. Bring me the letter from Dermot."

For some reason, I was incredibly frustrated at his words. "Eric, that's the letter. I can't believe you can't read it either!"

Eric looked confused and I explained, "Andy and Agent Lattesta could only read it like it was a "To Do" list. Are you seriously telling me you can't read Dermot's words?"

He nodded his assent while bringing the thin paper to his nose. Almost immediately his fangs descended, indicating that he smelled Dermot's hand on the paper. Pulling his nose away he said, "This must be bewitched in some way. Perhaps only those with Fae blood can read it. Tell us what it says." He returned the paper to me and leaned back, his fingers joining to form a steeple that rested beneath his chin.

Once my fingers grasped the thin paper, I was incredibly nervous. I felt like I had when I was a child and it was my turn to read my report to the class. When I was young and had no control over my special talent, school was incredibly difficult for me. I'd felt bombarded by the thoughts of my teachers and peers, overwhelmed. Standing in my living room before Eric and Pam the sensation of nervous fear began to take root in my being as I prepared to read aloud. "It says…._My_…_My Darling Sookie_," I was choking out the words. Saliva flowed into my mouth and I nearly choked on my own fluids, before centering myself and continuing. "_It embarrasses me that you still breathe and that your tainted blood still runs through your veins. But don't worry, that won't last for long. You've been watched more carefully than you know, but I'll still have the last Word. Can't wait until you die! Dermot"_ When I uttered Dermot's name out loud, I felt the paper fall from my hand and my knees seemed to go weak. Whether he sensed my discomfort or observed that I was about to topple, Eric was swiftly at my side, his long arm wrapped around my waist, supporting me. He gently guided me to the easy chair and brought my lukewarm tea to my lips.

"Sookie. Drink this. Calm down. Nothing will happen to you tonight."

Rather than feeling reassured, Eric's emphasis on "tonight" sent tremors of fear coursing through my body. We left unspoken what would happen to me during the day, when I was most vulnerable, unprotected. As I slumped back into the chair, pressing Eric's hand that caressed by back into the frame of the chair, I felt the fiery tongues of anger begin to lick at my skin. I knew a tantrum was coming on and I was powerless to stop it. My usual ability to keep my emotions in check had been exhausted hours ago. I was so frustrated and angry that once again I was vulnerable because of something that was completely out of my control. I could feel the tension building in my body and I knew that I was about to explode, striking out in anger, and I knew subconsciously that Eric would be the target for my impending shotgun blast of rage.

"Well, it's so fucking great to know I'm safe tonight! What about tomorrow during the day?" I glared at Eric. "What about tomorrow night?" I sent daggers at Pam. "Is this what my life will be? Moving from one danger to another?" I couldn't help myself when I turned once again toward Eric and said, "How the fuck can I trust you to keep me safe when the last time I begged for your help you were nowhere to be found?"

If it were possible, I swear Eric became more pale than usual. His body stiffened and his eyes seemed to shift from light blue to navy in an instant. At my words, Pam audibly inhaled and looked away. Abruptly, Eric stood, his entire tall, muscular frame hovered over me and his fangs partially descended. His fists clenched and unclenched. Through the bond I felt his rage and … anguish? His hot stare penetrated every aspect of my being, as though he was trying to tell me something. Before I could understand, he turned on his heels and stormed out of the room. Perhaps a second passed before I heard my backdoor slam behind him.

The sound of the backdoor slamming seemed to rouse both Pam and I from our thoughts. Our eyes met, and I did not see sisterly love in hers. Rather, Pam looked at me with anger. She brought her blood to her lips with a slow, purposeful moment and took a swig, all the while staring at me. Without breaking her gaze she placed the bottle on the coffee table and said, "You ungrateful, selfish, childish human." She spat those words at me, and each syllable was punctuated with unspoken anger. I'd never seen Pam look more lethal.

I was stunned into silence; my anger faded immediately, replaced by a confusing mix of guilt and shame. I don't know how long we stared at each other without speaking, without moving. Pam's face did not soften; she continued to glare at me with barely contained rage.

When I could no longer tolerate the silence I asked, "What Pam? What have you not told me?" I could feel the traitor tears forming in my eyes and I looked forlornly toward the kitchen, as though I could still see Eric's tall frame retreating from me. With moistening eyes I said, "Don't you know how I begged for him?"

She didn't respond.

"Don't you know how I screamed his name and prayed that he would save me from that torture?"

Again, Pam did not respond.

I felt my frustration building; I was not the guilty party. I opened my robe and bared my battered breasts to the woman I'd once considered my friend. "Look at me! While Neave and Lochlan were biting me and cutting me, tormenting me, my only thoughts, other than wanting to die, were of him!"

I'd raised my voice and I must have seemed like I'd lost my mind, but for the very first time I was starting to express how scared I was that night. For so long I'd felt like no one could know, that no one could understand. I had literally begged for two things: death or Eric.

"He _betrayed_ me Pam. What's the point of this fucking bond and our supposed _love_ if he can desert me so easily the _one_ time I need him? _Bill_ came for me. Not him!"

At those words, Pam slapped me across the face.

I was shocked and instinctively my left hand flew up to cup my left cheek which stung from Pam's blow. I stared at her and saw her looking at me with seething rage. I'd always wondered about the phrase "angry enough to spit nails," but looking in Pam's face, I understood. She was angry enough to spit nails … at me. Keeping my hand on my face, I tried to steady my breathing, but then she spoke.

Seething with barely restrained rage, Pam spat "You naïve, selfish child. Do you want to know why he didn't come to you? He fucking couldn't. You're _relatives_ moved you through the Fae realm. Your _precious_ Bill was able to _save_ you because he literally rode on Niall's coattails. My Master couldn't follow." She continued to glare at me while I absorbed her words. When she next spoke her words were barely above a whisper, "I know you suffered Sookie, but _never_ assume that he didn't care. He felt everything; he felt you calling him and he _couldn't _go to you. I've never seen him so tormented."

I still couldn't speak. The sting of Pam's slap had faded and my left hand joined my right in my lap. I could barely meet Pam's gaze. I felt …. ashamed? For so long I'd been burying my resentment of Eric, assuming that some pressing matter at Fangtasia had kept him from me that night. My stomach twisted and I realized how unjust I'd been to him. Pam was also right to emphasize that it was the Fae, my extended _family,_ who had kidnapped and meticulously tortured me in an effort to wound Niall. All of the energy that my anger had built up in my body flooded out, like the air being let out of a balloon. My only thought was that I had been Neave and Lochlan's pawn in a supernatural game of chess with Niall. I had been powerless then and I was powerless now. I was simply a pawn, the lowliest piece on the board. I'd gone from being a plaything of Vampires to Weres to the Fae all in a matter of a few short years. The cynical part of me recognized that when I was the pawn of vampires, I knew where I stood and I knew what was happening. The honest part of me recognized that I only knew that because of Eric. He'd never lied to me about his intentions.

With shame, I raised my head to meet Pam's eyes. I was surprised to see that hers had softened. She no longer looked on me with anger, but … kindness and pity. Before I could say what was in my heart, we heard three short raps on the front door. Pam rolled her eyes and leaned back into the couch. "It's the shifter. I suppose you should let him in."

I gathered my last remaining reservoir of strength, stood and walked evenly to the front door. I desperately wanted to talk with Eric, but I felt that I'd completely blown it with him. It didn't seem ironic that once again I was turning to Sam in a time of crisis. It wasn't fair to anyone involved, especially Sam, but I truly did need him. He'd been my rock for so long.

When I opened the door, Sam's usually calm demeanor was replaced by wild eyes. He burst into the room and was startled to see Pam relaxed on my couch, calmly sipping her blood. His eyes scanned the room and returned to mine. "Sookie, you said there was an emergency. What's going on?"

"Sam, thanks for coming. Can I get you some tea or a beer?"

"No. Sookie, tell me what's going on."

"It's a bit of a long story Sam." I filled him in as quickly as possible starting with Dermot's letter, my guests from both national and local law enforcement and their suspicions about Jason, finishing with the delivery of my mystery package and the strange reaction it provoked in Eric and Pam. As I described Eric and Pam's response to the package Sam's other nature seemed to engage. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Opening his eyes, Sam concurred with Eric and Pam's assessment that someone Fae was involved. He approached the end table in the foyer cautiously. While smelling the package, it seemed as though Sam was very careful not to touch it. As his nose hovered over the box, I could see his body begin to vibrate, and I knew that he was very close to transforming. Although he didn't change, Sam's expression shifted from curious to concern in a matter of moments. As he focused and resumed control of his faculties, he grasped my wrist and pulled me into the living room. He gently placed me in Eric's former seat on the couch while he settled into the easy chair, facing me and Pam.

"Where's Eric?" he asked.

Before I could respond, Pam said, "He needed a moment to attend to urgent business." Curling her lips into a half smile, Pam said, "Now that you're here, I'm sure he'll return shortly. What do you think of Sookie's little delivery?"

"I don't know. Obviously it reeks of Fae, but you don't need me to tell you that."

With a sneer Pam asked, "Can't you shift into one of those dogs that sniff out bombs or drugs or something _useful_?"

Sam bristled and replied, "I don't have those particular skills."

Goading him she said, "Too bad. I thought you could do something _useful_ while we wait for Eric."

My frayed nerves couldn't take this useless sniping. "Enough Pam. I asked Sam to come here and help. I didn't invite him here so that you could take potshots at him." Turning to Sam I asked, "What do you think we should do about it? Obviously there's something about it that _distracts_ vampires. Is there anything else to it? Do you think something bad will happen if we open it?"

Sam took a deep breath and ran his hands through his wavy hair before replying, "I don't know chere. I don't think it's a bomb or anything like that, but there's something off about it. The odor of Fae is almost as strong as it would be if a Fae were standing in the room. It seems strange that a box would retain that kind of scent. Honestly, I'd feel more comfortable if Amelia could take a look and tell us if it's got some kind of Fae magic attached to it."

I couldn't hide my disappointment that Sam wasn't able to provide me with the perfect answer to my little UPS delivery problem. As much as I'd like to consult with Amelia, she wasn't answering my calls. Eric and Pam were practically bewitched by the brown box, so they were no use. Sam seemed to believe that it wasn't a bomb, so the only option left, as best I could tell, was for me to follow through with the sender's intent and open the damn thing.

Abruptly I stood and walked purposefully to the foyer. Grabbing the heavy box in my hands, I turned to my guests and said, "I'm stepping outside to open this, in case it's too much for Pam to smell. Sam, please help yourself to anything in the kitchen, and Pam, warm up another blood if you're still thirsty." Before either one of them could stop me I yanked the front door open and moved swiftly towards the porch swing. Sitting down, I could scarcely believe that just last night I'd nearly made love to Eric on this same swing.

For the briefest of moments I allowed myself to remember the feel of his body beneath mine as we kissed and caressed each other. Something about his arms around me made me feel so alive. His kiss alone set my nerve endings on fire and engulfed me with desire and passion that only his touch could quench.

What a stark contrast to the feeling of dread that coursed through me as I held the shoebox shaped package that I knew was sent by Dermot. Before I was able to slip a finger under the folds of brown paper that wrapped the box, I heard the front door open. Pam and Sam emerged and Sam said, "Sookie. I don't think this is a good idea. Come inside. Let us be there when you open this."

I don't know why, but instinctively I felt that I needed to open the package outside and that I didn't want Pam and Sam to see its contents. "Sam, Pam. This is something I have to do. Please, go inside." Something in my tone of voice must have communicated to my friends that, just this once, I didn't want them. Pam turned and went back inside. Sam gave me one last look that seemed to implore me to wait for him, but I said, "I'm serious Sam. This is something I have to do."

Obviously warring with himself, Sam exhaled, lowered his head and turned and went inside.

Before returning my attention to the heavy box in my hands, I took in the soothing sounds of the night. The brisk, cool darkness of night in Bon Temps in February is deadly silent. Gone are the comforting sounds of crickets and birds that penetrate the blackness of summer evenings. The leafless trees towered around my home and in their stillness seemed like sentries, waiting stiffly for a call to arms. Under the lip of the porch roof, I could see the moon glowing bright, and I thought of Eric. My heart ached for him, undeservedly. I knew that my careless words had wounded him. I'd known that before Pam had told me the truth about him on the night of the Fae War. I'd felt the pain I'd caused him and I'd felt his regret and anguish. They'd cut through me, like a dull knife slicing through warm butter. I felt my own regret begin to swell, but I knew I needed to set those thoughts aside. The brown wrapped package weighed heavily in my lap. As much as I wanted him, I knew it would be selfish for me to call to Eric now. I felt I needed to deal with my family on my own.

My index finger shook slightly as I slid it beneath a fold of the brown paper wrapping and began to slide it open. Once I had released all of the brown wrapping, I saw that I was indeed holding a shoebox in my lap. I knew without a doubt that the package did not contain black wedge heels from Payless. … A shoe that resided in my own closet.

The bravery I'd felt when I told Pam and Sam to go back inside left me as I stared at the heavy shoebox. I was jolted from my thoughts when I heard gravel rustle in my driveway. Quickly looking up, I saw Eric making purposeful strides towards me. He stepped onto my wooden porch with confidence and said, "Open it."

He must have known that I was worried about his reaction to the box's contents or at least its scent, because he stayed apart from me, standing on my porch, leaning against the far wooden column. Eric's mere presence reignited my confidence and with steady hands I slowly raised the lid of the box.

Looking in I was confused at first. Lying atop a layer of hot pink tissue paper was a silver keychain adorned with a pewter witch's hat. Goosebumps involuntarily formed all over my skin and I shuddered.

Eric looked at me with concern and said, "What is it lover?"

"It's a keychain. But…it's not possible, but it's exactly like the keychain I gave…" My panic began to rise, "It's the same as the one I gave Amelia for Halloween." Frantically, I looked at Eric and said, "I haven't been able to reach her. She said she'd call or text me every day. Oh God Eric, what if something happened to her? What if he has her?" In an instant Eric was kneeling by my side. The moment his face was within a foot of the box his fangs descended and his eyes became blurry with desire. He closed them and exhaled, stilling his body. "I'm sure she's fine. Dermot is trying to fuck with your mind. What else is in the box?"

I carefully placed the keychain beside me on the swing and drew back the first layer of tissue paper. Nestled above another layer of pink tissue paper was a hand knit fuzzy green sweater soaked in dried blood. My stomach lurched and Eric hissed and jumped away from me towards the wooden railing that lined the porch. Gripping the ancient wood from behind, Eric said, "Wrap it back up in the tissue Sookie. It won't disguise the scent, but at least you won't have to look at it."

While Eric knew the dried blood on the sweater was Fae, I don't think he could have possibly known what I did. The fuzzy green sweater was the tiny garment I'd seen Claudine happily knitting the last time I'd seen her alive. I knew the blood was hers. As Eric restrained himself, I quickly rewrapped the tiny object in paper and placed it adjacent to the keychain that I sensed belonged to Amelia.

The box was not yet empty.

As I removed the next layer of tissue paper I uncovered a thick white envelope that reminded me of Halleigh and Andy's opulent wedding invitation. I glanced up at Eric and noticed that his stance was more relaxed; he'd regained control of himself. With slightly trembling fingers I lifted the think envelope from its cradle of tissue paper. Opening it, I pulled out an ivory card. My eyes were drawn to the embossed silver words which read, "_My Darling Sookie. Until we achieve the moment I crave, I want you to have this precious image as a memento of the most special day of my long life, and a promise of our future time together. Love, Dermot." _

Without hesitation I handed the card to Eric, placing it in his already outstretched hand. My heart was racing; I had no idea what other _gift_ Dermot could have included in the box, nor any clue as to what memory in particular he wanted me to savor. One more layer of tissue paper guarded Dermot's surprise. Summoning my strength, I pulled the last layer of tissue aside.

As my hand moved the layer of pink tissue to the side, the last item in the box was revealed. A large silver frame, engraved with the words _"This is What Love Looks Like"_ surrounded a picture of me sprawled on a dusty wooden floor, covered in blood and bites and knife wounds. I had never seen how terrible I'd looked before I'd ingested Eric's healing blood at the supe hospital. The picture in the frame featured my nude, twisted and tortured body, obviously in the throes of Neave and Lochlan's fun. In the picture, my eyes were closed, and in addition to the blood and obvious wounds, I couldn't help but stare at the tracks left by my tears that seemed to flow from my eyes, down my cheeks, before curling under my jaw.

I didn't remove the frame from the box. Rather, I stilled all of my movements and took the gruesome image in. Every emotion I'd been repressing since that dark day flooded back. While I knew I'd been in denial about the trauma I'd experienced, I was unprepared for the floodgates that opened and threatened to drown me. I honestly felt as though my body had been launched over a cliff. I was in freefall, and I didn't know if jagged rocks or a calm pool awaited my eventual descent. The tension between Eric and I was palpable. It took everything I had to raise my head from my lap and look him in the eyes. I was stunned by his expression.

Eric Northman, the vampire sheriff, 1,000 year old vampire, stared at me with such intense love I was overwhelmed. Without thinking, I stood. The hideous framed image fell from my lap and clattered on the floor as I launched myself into Eric's cold dead arms, seeking the solace only he could provide.

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading. As I post this chapter tonight, this fic is just a few reviews shy of 100. If I wrote anything in advance I'd promise teasers, but honestly, I write and then I post. To everyone who's reading: thank you for reviewing, adding D&M to your alerts or favorites. I'm not kidding when I write that I truly am humbled. I've read such great stories on this site that I can't believe my first venture had so many dedicated readers. You rock like there's no tomorrow!


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just inviting her beloved characters put the dead bird my cat killed this morning into the dumpster. I wish I was kidding. It creeps my husband out, so I have to do it myself ….

_Previously……._

_Eric Northman, the vampire sheriff, 1,000 year old vampire, stared at me with such intense love I was overwhelmed. Without thinking, I stood. The hideous framed image fell from my lap and clattered on the floor as I launched myself into Eric's cold dead arms, seeking the solace only he could provide._

Without pause Eric wrapped his strong arms around me and clenched me tightly to him. I buried my head in his chest. I sought nothing but his comfort and silence, hoping that it would drown out the crashing symbols of insanity that pulsed through my head. As I inhaled Eric's unique scent and relished the web of safety his arms spun around me I desperately tried to drown out my thoughts.

I failed.

Amelia hadn't called or texted and she didn't answer when I called.

Dermot had sent me her keychain. I knew it could be a replica, but something about the presentation of his _gift_ led me to believe she was in danger.

I could feel tears trailing sloppily down my cheeks, slowly soaking Eric's charcoal gray shirt as I thought of Dermot's next present. How he had ended up with the sweater Claudine had been knitting I do not know. But I was certain that it was sent to me to serve a twisted dual purpose. Of course, seeing it cut me like the sharp teeth of Neave and Lochlan and it brought my grief for Claudine's vicious death to the forefront of my layered grief. The cynical part of me was convinced that Dermot had included the blood soaked sweater in the hopes that the scent of dried Fae blood would have sent my vampires into such frenzy that they would have killed me. It seemed to me that Dermot would relish the idea of the people I loved killing me because they couldn't resist their baser instincts.

Despite the grief that threatened to drown me, it was Dermot's last gift, the picture frame, which had me teetering on the edge of insanity. His twisted note, combined with the etching on the frame, chilled me to the bone. Knowing that he got such intense pleasure from an image of me so tortured, so near death, frightened me terribly. Nearly every other time my life had been in danger, I'd always felt a modicum of control, of choice.

I'd chosen to face the Rattrays to save Bill. I'd chosen to stare down Eric to bargain for the safety of the humans I'd questioned. I'd chosen to walk into the arms of the Fellowship of the Sun. I'd chosen to face Lorena. I'd chosen to hold a bomb in my hand, and I'd chosen to save Eric and Pam.

I'd chosen to fight for my friends and the ones I love, over and over. I never planned it, but I knew, from the depths of my soul, that I would never rest if someone I loved was in danger. Instinct had always led me to act, to fight.

It was not my choice to become a pawn in the Fae War. I had stumbled into it, careening into forces beyond my knowledge and beyond my control. It had nearly killed me. A part of me wished it had; that thought signaled to me how broken I was. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I'd already lost so much of myself; I'd surrendered to my terror.

Until the moment I pulled the hot pink tissue paper away and had uncovered the photo of myself, I'd managed to successfully bury the pieces of myself that had died in that shack with Neave and Lochlan. I'd gone from praying for Eric or death to welling with hope as Bill and Niall rescued me; to being comforted, in her own way, by Claudine. Eric's tender care and healing blood had steadied me for the battle to come, when we'd lost Clancy, Tray and nearly Bill.

The time that followed was a blur. Physical recovery, paired with my uneasy dance with Amelia as we waited for Tray's funeral, had blanketed me like a fog. I'd gone through the motions, but was numb inside. I'd hidden my loss and the darkness that seemed to seep into my soul from everyone – especially Sam and Amelia. For their sakes, I'd pretended that my partially healed scabs were no different from the times I'd been injured before. I'd joked with them that Neave and Lochlan's bites and stab wounds were less serious than being staked or shot, but nothing could have been further from the truth. I'd take getting stabbed because I'd tried to save someone, or shot because I was mistaken for a Were, any day over being tortured because of who my relatives were in some sort of sick otherworldly battle. My frustration at being powerless began to grow and I thought of how the relative peace I'd constructed for myself after the Fae War had crumbled the moment the bombs exploded and Dermot's twisted game crashed down on me like crumbling plaster in an earthquake.

I was no longer numb. I felt everything, all over again. Despite the fear and the remembered pain, something was different. I couldn't help but hope that the difference was the strong man who held me in his arms. Before I launched myself into his body, Eric had looked at me with such intensity and our bond surged with love. He was my safe haven. He was my refuge. He was my only hope to retain my sanity, and it scared me to death. Before Eric, only Gran's arms had possessed this unique ability to calm me and give me peace. I was disconcerted because my memory of Gran's arms providing this solace were trapped in my childhood; never as an adult, as a woman, had another's arms wrapped around me managed to soothe me so.

As he held me in his arms, Eric's lips pressed gently into the top of my head, over and over, as though by kissing my crown he knew he could calm me. I kept my face pressed into his chest, breathing in his scent, relishing the feel of the fabric of his shirt on my face. As my mind raced and I gave in to the pain and the fear, he whispered words of comfort, again in his native tongue. I tried to clear my mind and felt him trying to alter my emotions through our bond. He was trying to will me to accept his version of calm, comfort, peace.

I was having none of it.

I looked him in the eyes and said, "Stop. I know you're trying to help, but I need to think this through. I need to feel this. Just hold me, please."

He never stopped murmuring his words of comfort, of love? But the pulse of comfort trying to overtake my emotions stopped. He was letting me be.

Although he stopped trying to manipulate me through the bond, Eric was cleverly trying to calm me by allowing his talented fingers to massage small, almost delicate circles into my back. This soft massage was incredibly soothing and began to momentarily ease my fears.

I wondered if it was wrong or somehow weak of me to desire so greatly to give in to him, to relax my body into his and to welcome the comfort his fingers promised. I'd been alone for so long. I'd never truly let anyone in before. I'd never succumbed or surrendered. My body wanted me to surrender, to _yield_ to whatever the man before me desired. My body ached for his touch and I knew that my soul yearned to trust in his.

My mind was another matter entirely.

At that thought, every hair on my arms rose and coated my skin in goosebumps. Eric interpreted my bumpy skin as a sign that my body was cold.

"Lover. Let us go inside. There is much to discuss."

I knew it would have been childish to resist, so I allowed him to guide me inside. As he opened the front door, my exhaustion took over, so he wrapped his left arm behind my knees, pulling my body to his chest like a new bride, crossing the threshold for the first time with her chosen lifelong lover. He cradled me to him and stepped somewhat uncertainly into the living room. Eric paused and seemed to be trying to decide whether or not to place me on the couch or to carry me into my bedroom.

The need for conversation obviously won out and Eric laid me out on the couch. He pulled a blanket off the side of the couch and stretched it out over me, tucking it around my body from all sides. I lay on my side and when I opened my eyes, I saw Pam sitting in the easy chair across from me. Her lithe, polished and manicured body seemed dwarfed by the very chair that Agent Lattesta had occupied earlier in the day when he'd engaged in his campaign of harassment against me. Pam sat rigidly, with her left knee crossed purposefully over her right. Her half-empty bottle of TruBlood hung delicately in her right hand, gripped by her perfect hands. As I stared at her, she brought the bottle to her lips and she held my gaze.

As Pam looked at me with a blend of curiosity and challenge, I felt Eric shuffling awkwardly towards my feet. By his movements, it was obvious he wanted to sit down, but my outstretched legs didn't accommodate his form. In reaction, I curled up into a ball, making room for him on the end of the couch. He sat down, but shocked me by grasping my ankles under the blanket and pulling them towards him and onto his lap. Before I could react, his fingers began to nimbly massage my feet. This was so out of character that I wondered if Dermot's package had come equipped with a memory-loss curse; Eric's gentle foot rub, in the presence of Pam, seemed more in tune with the Eric I'd first fallen in love with that my heart leapt at his gentleness while my head second-guessed his motivations and mental health.

Pam was clearly on the same page as me, because she took one look at Eric's caretaking and raised a single eyebrow while staring at his moving hands. Her look seemed to challenge not just his masculinity but his vampire essence. If I could read vampire minds, I'm sure Pam's was thinking that Eric was pussy whipped beyond recovery.

Luckily we didn't have to share our thoughts because Sam returned to the living room from the kitchen, a cold beer in his hand. Noticing Eric's and my intimate pose and Pam's complete relaxation in the only other chair, Sam quickly strolled back to the dining room to retrieve a chair from himself. He placed the wooden chair right next to Pam's and sat down, staring from me to Eric expectantly.

Sam's confusion and Pam's unspoken questions reminded me that neither of my guests were privy to the contents of Demort's _touching_ gifts. I closed my eyes, trying to find the words to describe everything. Thankfully, before I could say a word, Eric spoke.

"Sookie opened the box." His hands tensed and gripped my ankle before he hissed, "We need to plan."

Sam took a sip of his beer and looked from Pam to me to Eric before saying, "Tell us what was in the box."

Eric glared at Sam, but told him and Pam about each item in the box. Sam flinched twice: once when Eric mentioned Amelia's keychain and once when Eric described the picture of me. I was so relieved that only I had seen that gruesome picture. If I'd ever felt like questioning Pam's loyalty to me she underscored her commitment when her fangs ran down in anger at Eric's description of the picture of me. Once Eric stopped talking we all seemed to pause, as if needing time to process and plan.

After some time to reflect, Sam took a long draw from his beer and looked at me, "My parents have land out west. We'll leave tomorrow and stay there."

I swear Eric growled before he snarled, "Sookie will not leave my side." Each word he uttered sounded like staccato notes being played on a piano, each syllable uttered at the same level and intensity.

"You can't believe that it's safe for Sookie to stay in Bon Temps?" Sam asked.

As though speaking to a particularly churlish underling, Eric said, "Her safety is mine to secure. Sookie is mine, and I will keep her safe."

My eyes met Pam's as soon as Eric's possessive words escaped his lips. She gave away nothing from her expression. For all the good it did me, Pam could have been a replica of the Mona Lisa; a beautiful woman with a twisted smile that looked like she'd just drunk spoiled milk.

As I battled my exhaustion and tried to will my body into a sitting position, Sam growled and said, "Just how do you plan to protect her Viking? It's not like you did such a great job the last time."

Before I could blink, Pam was on her feet, her strong arms creating a bridge between Sam and Eric's bodies. The men snarled at each other and I could see Sam's form begin to vibrate, as though he was close to changing. While I didn't think that Eric would be harmed physically, I truly didn't want this pissing contest to come to anything more than what it really was – a conversation between two people who honestly cared about me but who conveniently forgot that I would have an opinion about my future.

When Pam hissed at Sam in warning, I took the opportunity to straighten myself on the couch and consider my options. Sam and Eric seemed to be warring over their individual opportunity to control my physical being, and to be honest, it somewhat sickened me. As such, the sight of two grown men, barely holding back from all out violence because of the pressure of Pam's French manicure holding them back almost sickened me.

Cautiously, gently testing my limbs and ensuring that I had adequate strength to stand on my own, I rose and turned, facing Sam to my left and Eric to my right. I stared straight into Pam's eyes and attempted to communicate to her that I needed to force each one of my men to hear me speak my peace. As such, I cleared my throat with a gravely twitch and forced my wobbling legs to support my more determined hips.

"Stop it." I commanded, looking first at Eric and next at Sam. When I turned my eyes to Pam, she seemed to encourage my words, while not once relinquishing the hold she had on each man.

Summoning my strength, I again forced my legs to be strong as I looked from Sam to Eric before saying, "Does either of you know what was missing from your conversation?"

Eric and Sam stared at me like I'd offered them the choice between buying a condo on the moon or a timeshare on Mars.

Pam pursed her lips in response and managed to clear her throat in understanding, before reasserting her dominance over the men.

Again I looked from Sam to Eric and said, "Really? You don't get it do you?" My heart sank a bit because I felt as though I'd had this conversation a million times with both of them. Sam looked to Eric, somewhat confused. They both seemed to relax their bodies and leaned into Pam's strong hands, almost in submission to her. They looked to each other before turning their faces to stare at mine.

All of the anger, the frustration, the memories of being completely powerless, boiled over as I seethed at the concept that the two men I truly cared about tried to treat me like a suitcase that needed to be shipped from one location to another. It was obvious from their oblivious glances at me and bright eyed stares at Pam that neither man had thought once that perhaps my opinion should matter as they planned to _save _me.

It was infuriating that Sam and Eric stared at Pam as though hoping _she_ would provide them with answers. I was so insulted; anger seemed to pulse through me from my fingertips to my heart to the rest of my body. Fuck them for looking to Pam for answers. In looking to her, they both made me feel like I was some sort of incompetent child, awaiting the decision of a divorce court judge who would command me to go with one man over the other, choosing between my two Dads. Pam was not my mother; she was not my lawyer. In the best of times she was my friend, but in this moment, she was another outsider and the two men I thought I loved trusted her judgment over mine.

Despite my shorter physical stature and lack of formal education, I was not their bitch. I was not some helpless plaything that needed every decision made for her. Screw that noise. My anger and frustration merged as I thought of all the times that I, Ms. Sookie Stackhouse, uneducated barmaid, had helped or rescued the three people before me. Yes, they'd helped me too, but let's be honest; they're not human. Unlike them, I don't have vampire strength and I am unable to turn myself into a fierce animal at will. All I can do is rely on my wits and my instincts, and my special talent. Yet despite my human handicaps, I've saved each one of their asses and I've been in service to vampire royalty, thank you very much. Don't ask me how I've dealt with my ex-lovers _special_ friends, because that's a bloody tale. Despite my record as a self-sufficient, independent woman with a mind of her own, it was obvious that Sam and Eric wanted to see me as nothing more than a tan Barbie with more tits than brains as they argued over whose dream house the bimbo should cower in fear in.

Screw them. Sam and Eric ignored me again as they renewed their argument about who could best protect me. They didn't seem particularly interested in ripping each other from limb to limb, so Pam eventually lowered her hands and stepped away. As she dropped her hands, she looked at me slyly. She was trying to communicate something to me, but I failed to understand. As she stepped closer to me, she took my left hand in her right hand and led, no pulled, me into the kitchen. If it were Amelia or Tara taking me by the hand, I would have expected that our arrival in the kitchen meant time for girl talk. Pam leading me into the kitchen was another story entirely, and I was only slight less uncomfortable with her that I was with the two men spitting nails at each other in my living room.

As Pam shoved me into my kitchen I had no idea what to think or what to expect. As soon as our feet touched linoleum, Pam released my hand and strode towards the refrigerator. Pulling open the old almond door, she reached inside and withdrew a blood. Before closing the door, she asked, "Want a beer?"

I nodded yes and she pulled another bottle from the fridge. In one fluid movement she uncapped my beer and handed it to me while simultaneously uncapping her blood and popping it into the microwave to heat up. We stood in silence, serenaded by the gentle whirring of the microwave. No voices echoed from the living room. It was as though Pam and my absence had turned Sam and Eric to stone and they simply stood there, leaning angrily over my coffee table, with oaths of protection going unnoticed.

With a ding from the microwave, Pam and I were pulled from our thoughts. As she opened the door and took a swig from the bottle, I realized that I had no desire to return to the living room. The childish part of me felt like the living room was the Principal's office and that I'd been sent there as a naughty child. Fleeing that sensation seemed like a good thing, so I grabbed my beer by the bottle neck and unlatched the lock on my back door. Pulling the door open, I gestured for Pam to follow me onto my back porch.

As Pam pulled the door closed behind her I was suddenly grateful for the gentle wind that had been blowing all day. I hadn't stepped foot onto this porch since I'd awoken satiated from Eric's attentions, and the paranoid part of me assumed that Pam would smell nothing but the aftermath of our sexual adventures.

Since Pam sat comfortably in the only easy chair on the porch, I allowed myself to believe that she didn't smell a thing. Knowing that she was comfortable, I walked over to the chaise that Eric and I had christened and was about to sit down before Pam said, "Shouldn't you have that cleaned first?" Before I could respond, she had raised both eyebrows and was winking at me with her left eye.

I sat down with force and muttered, "Fuck you Pam. Have I ever given you shit?"

Delicately, Pam took a sip of her blood and crossed her left ankle over her right; her mannerisms were so prim it seemed like she was taking a sip of Earl Gray in the presence of the Queen Mum herself. After she swallowed her nourishment, Pam lowered the hand holding the bottle and said, "Now now Sookie. Is that really what you want to discuss? It's obvious that you and my Master have fucked here. I couldn't really care less. What I think we need to discuss is how to keep your crazy Fae relation from killing you."

A/N: I know this was short and not particularly action-packed, but have mercy on me…I'm buried with the work that pays my bills. The good news is that I'm on the road tomorrow, so that means chapters written on planes, which seems to motivate me. So… Hopefully I'll be posting at least once more this week, if not twice. Thank you all for reading, for reviewing for adding this fic to your alerts. You guys rock me and make my day when you do that. Seriously, as I post this, D&M has 119 reviews. I'm pretty sure I'll freak out if that ever crosses over 200. Love to you all!


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just inviting her beloved characters put the dead bird my cat killed this morning into the dumpster. I wish I was kidding. It creeps my husband out, so I have to do it myself ….

_Previously ….._

_Delicately, Pam took a sip of her blood and crossed her left ankle over her right; her mannerisms were so prim it seemed like she was taking a sip of Earl Gray in the presence of the Queen Mum herself. After she swallowed her nourishment, Pam lowered the hand holding the bottle and said, "Now now Sookie. Is that really what you want to discuss? It's obvious that you and my Master have fucked here. I couldn't really care less. What I think we need to discuss is how to keep your crazy Fae relation from killing you_."

I made myself comfortable on the chaise and pondered Pam's words. Sipping my beer, I closed my eyes and leaned back, letting my thoughts float freely. In this relaxed state I murmured, half to Pam, half to myself, "How the hell am I going to make it through this? I guess I need to be armed with lemon and my grandmother's garden tools for awhile. Of course, Dermot doesn't need to be here to hurt me. He could have just as easily sent me a bomb as he did the letter or the UPS box. You know Pam, if he wants to kill me, he can, and there's nothing we can do about it. I'm dead."

Pam didn't respond, but I could hear her shift in her chair and thickly swallow a gulp of her blood.

I continued rambling. "You know what he's done?" Her raised eyebrows and lack of a verbal response signaled that she didn't know where I was going with this. I kept talking.

"He's pretty much made it impossible for me to run away and hide. You know I can't leave Jason to get himself out of trouble with the FBI. If I don't help, he'll end up in jail forever, framed for Dermot's work. Even if I can prove that Jason's innocent, I still believe that something's wrong with Amelia. She said she'd call or text and she hasn't, Pam. She didn't answer her phone either. That, coupled with her keychain in the pink tissue box of doom, really worries me. I mean, how would Dermot have known what Amelia's keychain looks like if he hadn't been close enough to her to see it?"

Again, Pam didn't interject. I couldn't hear her move. For all I knew, she'd left the back porch once I'd started rambling. I opened my eyes and was almost surprised to see Pam, still sitting across from me, staring, and holding her bottle of blood. Her eyes seemed to be studying me but also processing, planning and plotting. Taking a sip of her blood, she waved her hand, as though encouraging me to keep rambling.

Taking another sip of my beer, I let the words come. "I wish I had a gin and tonic. I'm not much for beer." Either way, I took another sip. "You know, when Dermot was scoping me out before the Fae War, he hung out with Tray and Amelia some, trying to get information on me. I wonder if that's when he noticed her keychain. Pam, if you smelled the keychain Dermot sent, do you think you'd be able to tell if it was Amelia's?" I knew I was supposing a lot about vampires and their ability to smell, but I truly hoped that they were like bloodhounds, and that Pam would be able to quell my worries about Amelia with a simple sniff.

"I don't know Sookie. I think it might be very difficult, because it was surrounded by Dermot's scent and the odor of the blood from the sweater. I can try, but I doubt it will work; the smell of Fae is too strong."

"You know what else Pam? I think I need to figure out whether or not Claude decided to stay. If he's still in town, he might be able to tell us if there's a secret way to reach Niall, or maybe he'll have some ideas on where Dermot is hanging out while he's stalking me. You haven't heard about whether or not Claude left, have you?"

Pam snorted a bit and said dryly, "Your handsome cousin never was in the habit of letting me get close enough to sniff, much less to know his plans. You know I've never been his type." She paused with a grin and said, "Perhaps he told my Master."

I rolled my eyes and almost smiled at Pam's innuendo. I took another sip of my beer and sank further into the pillows on the chaise, before speaking again. "Pam, doesn't it seem like Dermot knows a hell of a lot about me? It makes me wonder who he's been talking to. It seems like he knows the best ways to hurt me."

Pam appraised me steadily and said, "I agree. He knows you too well. Everything seems orchestrated to keep you in the open, so that you're an easier target."

Setting the beer on the table, I rubbed my fingers into my forehead, trying to relax the tension in my body. That seemed to help, and it was suddenly clear to me what needed to be done, sort of.

I knew I needed to keep Jason out of jail.

I knew I needed to confirm Amelia's whereabouts.

I knew we needed to start to track down Dermot.

And I knew I needed to find a way to stay safe during the day.

I stopped rubbing my temples and sat up with newfound purpose. I looked Pam in the eyes and before I could speak she asked, "Are you ready to make plans?"

"Yes." At that, Pam stood up. I was totally confused; I'd just admitted that I was ready to plot with her and ready to begin our unspoken Thelma & Louise-style plans, just us girls against the world. Her rising and moving towards the back door seemed like she was either deserting me, or that she wanted me to return to the living room where I feared Eric and Sam would still be trying to figure out my custody arrangement.

"Um, aren't we going to talk out here?" I hesitantly asked.

Pam raised her eyebrow and took another sip of her blood before responding. "Sookie, you need to go in there and have an adult conversation with the shifter and my Master about this situation."

I felt myself starting to get angry with Pam, upset that by her mentioning having an adult conversation that she was implying she thought I was behaving childishly. I started to voice my retort, but Pam's next words cut me off.

"I know that my Master and the shifter have pissed you off by excluding your opinion, but you need to get over it and go stand up for yourself. I've never seen you let anyone tell you what to do, even when it was for your own good. That said, you need to acknowledge that this is a dangerous situation and face the fact that you cannot be left alone until this situation is resolved. None of us will tolerate you being alone, so deal with it. And you know you cannot escape the consequences of disobeying my Master."

With that, Pam turned and walked back into the house, allowing the screen door to flap behind her, but leaving the inner door open.

I wasn't quite ready to return to the living room to have it out with the people who purport to love me. I was just so unbelievably tired. I curled back up on the chaise and wished I had Gran's afghan to snuggle in. I was completely regretting wrapping it around my body and dropping it casually across my bed this morning.

Hesitating wouldn't make anything different, but I felt like I needed to sound lucid if I expected Eric and Sam to approve of my plans. It was time to make a list. I returned to the house, closing the back door behind me, and sat down at the kitchen table. I retrieved a piece of scratch paper and pen from the junk drawer and returned to my seat at the lonely kitchen table. I tried not to visualize Gran and Amelia sitting at the table in their usual places. They weren't here now. I needed to stand on my own two feet. With newfound determination, I thought carefully about the points I needed to make in my discussion with Eric, Sam and Pam before writing my ideas down. For some reason I embraced the quiet solitude that my guests afforded me, even though it stood in stark contrast to my recently self-imposed loneliness.

_Things To Do Before I Agree to Anything_

_Keep Jason out of jail. Prove him innocent. Needs lawyer – Mr. Cataliades? Need to figure out $$ to pay. Installment plan? Mortgage house?_

_Talk with Amelia. Must hear voice. Text message not good enough. Contact her Dad? Octavia? Go to New Orleans?_

_Find Claude. May have ideas about Dermot's whereabouts. If not, see if Claude can contact Niall. _

_Cover shifts at Merlotte's. Can't put Sam or anyone else in danger. Dermot must know where I work. _

_Buy lemons and squirt guns._

Number five on my list was a joke, sort of. I knew I'd feel better if I was packing plastic lemon-filled heat. I inwardly giggled at the image of myself with bright orange squirt guns holstered on my hips. I must be getting delirious. With more gravity, I realized that I needed to polish up Gran's trowel. It'd saved my life twice. I had the feeling it would come in handy again.

As I read over my list, I sensed Eric's approach. He stood behind me and had his talented fingers rubbing my neck and shoulders before I could even look up from my list. I quickly flipped it over and covered it with my hand. Eric bent down and rubbed his nose along my neck. "Are you ready to leave lover? I've packed you a bag. Let's go."

Irritation swelled out from my heart and seemed to tense every muscle in my body. I took a deep breath and pushed my chair back into Eric's body. He took a step back as I twisted in the chair to face him. I know he could feel my anger and frustration, but I needed him to understand _why_ I was upset. "Eric, I'm not going anywhere until we have a conversation about the things that need to happen."

He leaned back against the kitchen counter and examined his fingernails so carefully you'd have thought he was noticing them for the first time.

We passed a moment in silence, me staring at him, he staring at his fingernails. Without looking at me, he continued to stare at his hands while asking in a soothing near whisper, "Sookie. What were you writing with such urgency?"

I shifted my gaze from his strong hands to the fading walnut table that had been in Gran's kitchen ever since I could remember. The thin piece of scratch paper that hid beneath my hands seemed to reveal awkward secrets I wasn't sure I was ready to reveal. Before I could decide whether I was ready to confront Eric with my impromptu meeting agenda, I felt his strong fingers begin to dance across my shoulders as his warm breath blew my hair away from my neck. Leaning in, his nose ghosted a sensual outline of my neck from my jaw to my collarbone, before his tongue slipped from between his lips to lick gently from my collarbone up to my ear, tasting me and caressing me intimately, pausing to suck at the spots he knew would make me squirm. His lips enveloped my earlobe and began to suck it rhythmically; I moaned and leaned into his attentions, feeling each suck on my lobe like a sharp pulse straight to my core as I imagined his lips paying homage to my sex. I tilted my head back and felt my arms reach up to caress the back of his neck, as his ministrations brought me to completion with a sharp twist of my nipple. In my moment of release I heard the rustle of paper. In an instant, Eric's body had detached from mine, and I was left, sitting in my chair, staring at my kitchen table, aroused and frightened by the look in his eye as I watched him read my list.

The piece of scratch paper I'd used to gather my thoughts looked so small and insignificant when clenched tightly between Eric's powerful fingers. As he quickly read the contents of my brainstorm, his face seemed to shift quickly from amusement to concern to anger. Looking up from the paper, his eyes burned fiercely into mine, their usual cerulean blue darkening into a deep aquamarine.

I stood and leaned against the kitchen table looking at him. This powerful man, this vampire sheriff, who stood in my kitchen seemed to be willing himself to embrace restraint. His eyes darkened with his emotions, but I couldn't understand what it was about my hurried scribbles that had upset him so. I barely remembered what I'd written. I'd been trying to organize my thoughts, so I knew that I'd jotted down notes about wanting to resolve Jason's inevitable legal troubles; I wanted to find out if Amelia was safe; I wanted to make sure Sam wasn't put in danger by having me as an employee; and I knew I wanted to try and track down Claude to see if he knew how to contact Niall. As I bit of a joke, I remembered writing that I needed to buy lemons and squirt guns. Was that what had Eric so pissed? He was looking at me with such hurt and almost loathing, that I couldn't believe that was the case. The intensity of his glare was painful; I felt his disappointment and hurt coursing through the bond, but I didn't understand where it was coming from. Only moments ago, he made me come just by sucking my earlobe! How could he be looking at me with such distrust? I'd reveled in the peace he'd given my body. I wanted him so desperately, but now he looked at me like I was a stranger.

Eric's eyes held my gaze, and I couldn't look away. I was so confused, and I felt hurt welling up inside me. I was so tired, so confused. I felt my cheeks begin to flush and I knew I was about to cry, but I didn't know why!

Our staring contest was interrupted by Pam sauntering through the entryway to the kitchen. As her foot crossed the threshold, she paused and decided to lean against the woodwork of the entryway, seeming to absorb me and Eric with her gaze. She wrapped her arms around her torso and leaned casually against the frame of the door. Her left hand clasped a now empty bottle of TruBlood. We must have looked so strange. I could feel the red flush of my cheeks and I knew that Eric looked strained as he leaned tensely against the counter, clutching my note in his hand as his eyes bored holes into my soul, or so I felt.

Pam broke the silence by saying, "I guess you're not ready to begin life on the lam." Without waiting for a response from either of us, she strode to the refrigerator and removed a blood and a beer. In a fluid movement, she uncapped her bottle of TruBlood and opened the microwave door. Until the machine began to emit its gentle whir, she had not spoken. As her bottle rotated, embracing the warmth from the machine, she said, "Obviously I'm interrupting. I know you have much to discuss. I'll keep the shifter company until you're ready to leave." With that, the microwave uttered its robotic beep and she pulled open the door and grasped her blood. Taking Sam's beer off of the counter, she strode back towards the living room, but she didn't leave before glaring purposefully first at me and then at Eric.

As soon as Pam left the room, I found myself looking at Eric, trying to search out the meaning of his stare. He looked uncomfortable and we kept staring at each other until I could take it no longer. I huffed and said, "What is your problem?"

Eric's glare intensified and he stepped towards me. He pulled me to him and said, "Outside. We need privacy."

He released me and turned and walked out the back door. I followed, somewhat hesitantly. I stepped outside and closed the back door behind me out of habit; it was February and I had no interest in letting the cold night air into the house. Eric stood, facing away from me and stared out the windows of the back porch.

The sound of the door closing firmly seemed to rouse him from his thoughts. Without turning towards me, he held my note in his hand and asked in a low and gravelly voice, "Do you know what disturbs me about this, your plans?"

I was completely bewildered. I couldn't think of anything that would bother Eric about my list except for my joking note about buying lemons and squirt guns.

"If it's about the lemons and the squirt guns, I just thought it would make sense. They're a good defensive weapon. It's not, it's not like I'm planning on facing Dermot by myself with nothing but toys, but it's good to be prepared. It helped a little last time." I thought this would make Eric relieved, to know that I wasn't rushing off into trouble, but rather, I was thinking practically about defensive maneuvers.

Rather than relaxing and turning towards me, his hands gripped each side of a window pane and his body seemed to press into the window glass. He exhaled and I could see his fingers tighten around the wooden panes. "Sookie," he growled.

I felt so uncertain. I didn't understand what I'd done to cause him such stress. I'd thought he'd at least be pleased that I'd thought of the things that we needed to do before I freaked out again. I didn't understand this response, this distance. When he didn't turn to face me, I felt my heart begin to ache; I didn't understand it. I asked plaintively. "Eric?"

He still didn't face me, but he whispered sadly, "You really don't know, do you?" Without looking at me, he tossed my list over his shoulder towards me and hissed, "Look at it. Tell me what's missing."

The piece of paper fluttered behind him and I walked forward to pick it up. As I knelt down to pick up the paper I said, "Eric, I don't understand. I really don't. These were just some ideas I had, some notes to myself. I don't understand why you're upset." My fingers grasped the paper and I held it up to the porch light to better reread my scrambled thoughts. Looking over the list I'd made, I felt organized. I still didn't understand Eric's problem. "Is it the squirt guns Eric? I already told you that was more of a joke than anything!"

As I spoke, I watched his hands clench against the windowpanes, continuing to press his lean body towards the glass. He didn't turn to look at me.

Granted, I was utterly exhausted, but I wasn't in the mood to put up with a bitchy vampire. I'd had enough of that from Pam tonight, thank you very much. With more confidence than I felt I strode up behind Eric and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my head in between his shoulder blades. Breathing in the scent of his shirt and him, I said, "What is it? What did I do wrong? Everything on this list is about protecting the ones I love? How is that bad?"

Within my arms, I felt Eric almost shiver at my words. He still didn't turn to look at me. He didn't move. He seemed unaffected by my embrace. At his coldness, I released my arms and stepped away, rejected.

Thinking about the love we'd shared with each other in this same place the night before, I couldn't help but feel betrayed since he couldn't even look at me. I stood my ground and said, "Really? You can't even look at me? What the fuck is going on?"

At my outburst, he turned and sneered, "Really. You want to know what the fuck is going on? You say your list is about protecting everyone you love? Where is your name on that list? Where is …." He stopped speaking and stared at me, his blue eyes gleaming in the night, reflected only by the dim porch light. His entire countenance radiated agony, but I didn't understand where his pain was rooted.

I looked at him, and felt the need to wrap him in my embrace. Fearing his rejection, I took both of his hands into mine and brought them up to my face as I said, "I don't understand how I've hurt you. Please help me understand."

His hands, wrapped in mine, grasped the outlines of my face, as though he was preparing to devour my lips. The gratification I sought did not come, as his hands slipped from my flushed cheeks to hang limply by his sides. Almost involuntarily, his hands grasped my hips as he brought his forehead to meet mine. He closed his eyes and said huskily, "Sookie. Do you not understand that I'm new to this? I hate these … feelings," he uttered the word with distaste before continuing. "I've told you that I love you and I," he paused, "I mean it. But you seem to ignore it so completely. You ignore me. You are mine, my bonded, my wife. Yet, you talked to the FBI alone, against my wishes, you make a list of plans, but I am mentioned nowhere. You worry more about inconveniencing the shifter's bar than you do about me… or about you. Don't you understand that if we don't make smart decisions you're going to end up dead and I'll be …?"

He didn't finish speaking. Instead, he pulled my face towards his and his lips devoured mine, moving against them, pressing his lips into mine firmly, possessively. With a moan, my lips parted, allowing his tongue access to penetrate my mouth just as his arms clenched me into his body. He began to kiss down my neck, sucking and lingering on the delicate points that send throbs of lust coursing through my veins, awakening my body, making every nerve alert, as he whispered, "You are mine. You must stop ignoring me. You cannot exclude me from your plans. You are mine."

Usually his possessiveness pissed me off, but his intensity felt so real and I could feel his love through the bond. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be his.

The sound of the back door crashing open and banging against the side of the house stunned me awake from my bliss. We both turned towards the source of the noise and saw Pam standing confidently at the threshold. Before she could speak, Eric growled at her, fangs down, and stared at her menacingly. Pam rolled her eyes at him and said, "I'm leaving. I think the shifter should leave as well. Do you disagree?"

Eric rested his head atop mine and said, "Fine. Have him meet us at Fangtasia tomorrow at sundown. Sookie will be with me tonight."

Before leaving, Pam asked, somewhat uncertainly. "Master…What about tomorrow, in the day?"

Eric's arms tensed around my body, enveloping me in his tight embrace. "She will be with me. Take care of what we discussed and I will text you when it's time to meet. Go Pam."

With that dismissal, Pam closed the door behind her. I nestled my body into Eric's, seeking comfort in his arms. Just as my lips had connected with his, we again heard the back door slam against the side of the house. I broke away from Eric's lips and turned my body to face the door. Sam stood there, in the entrance, his body quivering with energy. "Your _child_ told me to go home. I'm not leaving Sookie unprotected," he declared.

Eric tightened his hold on my body possessively before snarling, "Sookie will be with me." Eric paused and spoke calmly with only a slight note of irritation, "Come to Fangtasia tomorrow night. We have much to discuss." With those words, Eric seemed to dismiss Sam, but Sam did not move. Instead, he nearly yelled, "That's not good enough Viking. Where are you taking her? How can she be safe with you in daylight?"

Eric replied coldly, and his words dripped with his deadly calm, "Our destination is not your concern. Her time in daylight hours is not your concern. She is my _bonded_ and _I_ will protect her. Come to Fangtasia tomorrow night if you want to assist."

I could sense that Sam wanted to protest, but I knew it would be futile. I also knew that Eric's offer to have Sam participate was very generous and went against his nature; Eric was allowing Sam to help because he knew I wouldn't want to exclude Sam. As such, I turned to my friend and said, "Sam. I'll be OK. I trust Eric. You need to trust him too. I'll see you tomorrow night."

Sam looked into my eyes as though he was searching for something. Finding his silent answer he turned and walked slowly back into my house, but not before gently closing the back door.

I was alone with my lover.

Eric's hands had never left my hips. As soon as the back door closed he began to caress my hips, kneading them in the knowing pattern of a lover. As much as I wanted Eric's attentions, I stepped back and looked at him before saying, "So. Where am I sleeping tonight?"

Eric's arms engulfed my body and I could feel his joy surge through our bond. It overwhelmed me as I felt him lift me off my feet while he deftly opened the back door to my home. He gently let my feet fall to my kitchen floor as he whispered in my ear, "I'm going to lock the doors. The bag I packed is on your couch. Check and make sure I got what you need."

Positive that my bag contained nothing but my raciest underclothes, I unzipped the duffle and was pleasantly surprised to see several pairs of jeans and t-shirts interspersed between the most lacy items my panty drawer had to offer. Verifying that my bag included my toothbrush and bathroom necessities, I zipped it back up. I stifled my growing anxiety related to leaving with Eric.

The whole point of my list was to remind myself to act empowered, but with a few kisses, I'd relinquished my plans. I knew I was being sophomoric (Word of the Day!), but it was disconcerting to be so willing to …. submit…. to him. Maybe it was because he'd expressed, in his own way, that he loved me and didn't want to lose me. I could understand how he might have interpreted my list as excluding him, but what he didn't understand and what I didn't say, was that the purpose of my list was to take care of the things that mattered before I let him hide me away or whatever it was that he'd planned for me. These things still mattered, but it would be foolish to address them at this hour. I needed sleep. I felt Eric's strong hand resting on my lower back. He leaned into me and asked, "Let us go. Time is running short."

I nodded and allowed him to lead me out of my home, as his long fingers gently turned out light switches and opened the front door. Once I crossed the threshold, I heard the familiar click of my front door lock. Eric placed my keys into his left pants pocket before taking my bag from me and wrapping his right arm around my waist. Pulling my body into his, Eric leaned down and pressed his lips to my ear before whispering, "It's time. Are you ready lover?"

As the word _lover _tickled my ear drum, I felt myself clench and my knees go weak. Unsettled, I couldn't speak, but I turned to my _lover_ and nodded, feeling a blush warm my cheeks. Before I could process anything, I felt Eric's body bend towards mine as his left arm embraced my back and his right cradled the flesh behind my knees. He stood to his full height, while holding my body in his arms, with my bag slung across his back, before taking bold strides to cross my porch and suddenly, when the porch ended we did not descend onto the waiting step, rather we launched into the cool February air.

I'd expected us to lunge off the porch towards a waiting car. I was wholly unprepared for the exhilaration of launching off my porch into the air, soaring above the trees that lined the drive that led to my family homestead. Joy seemed to bubble up from inside me, as cradled in Eric's arms, I felt freer that I ever had before. I don't know if it was my exhaustion, or my love for this man, or the newness of this experience, but nestled in his arms as the winds of the night whipped across my body and through my hair, I clung to him with such hope and my heart swelled at the freedom I felt. In that moment, I forgot about Dermot and my troubles. I thought of nothing but the man who held me in his arms and my heart surged with love for him as we soared above the treetops that defined Bon Temps, floating over everything I'd ever known.

Between the cool breeze of air rushing by me and the security of being held so securely by Eric's arms I wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings. I barely felt our descent. If anyone had asked me our location, I could have honestly pleaded ignorance. Eric's feet touched the ground so gently that only his pause to unlock the door of an unknown home alerted my exhausted body to our earthly presence. As I sighed into him, he laughed and brought my body closer to his as I heard locks giving way to keys and codes and he carried me over an unknown threshold; an unwitting bride in his arms.

Eric paused and slammed the door shut firmly. My eyes could barely stay open, but my ears heard the electronic beeping of alarms being set. I couldn't have cared less where we were, as long as I was with him. For tonight, I had yielded.

My eyes lost their battle for sight and closed gently. I contented myself with orienting myself to our surroundings through his body. I felt him leading us up a winding staircase, and I felt or imagined my feet occasionally brushing against a rounded metal railing as we ascended the stairway that led to our destination. After a few minutes I felt my body stop ascending, and the sound of Eric's footfalls transitioned from what could have been wrought iron to plush carpet. Eric moved forward silently across what I imagined was carpet before pausing. Once again I heard electronic beeping before the familiar sound of a thick door unlocking roused me from my near slumber. The sound reminded me of the noise the walk-in cooler at Merlotte's made when you wrenched the door open. As my eyes fluttered open, they needed time to adjust to the near pitch black darkness that surrounded me. Eric began to move forward again, and as he took a few steps I shuddered when I heard the harsh clang of the door behind us closing with finality. The metal door clanging shut frightened me, and I tightened my hold on Eric.

He pressed his lips onto the top of my head and whispered endearments (I hoped) in that language I wanted to interpret but couldn't understand. Still in his arms, I felt Eric allow my bag to slide off of his shouolder as he moved forward and began to lower my body onto what had to be the softest, most luxurious, most heavenly bed ever made. I think my body began to fall asleep as soon as each limb touched the soft sheets. Eric continued his gentle murmuring and I could feel him expertly disrobing me. Once I nude, I felt Eric slide the covers over my body. He tucked me in. I could feel him hovering over my face for a moment before I felt his lips place the sweetest of kisses on my forehead. He slid his nose down the bridge of mine, rubbing my lips with his nose before pairing my lips with his in a gentle caress. His tongue slipped from his mouth and traced the outline of my lips before his lips joined with mine in a kiss that sent excited tingles down to my toes. Without hesitation, I opened my lips and urged his to follow my lead, probing my tongue between his teeth, and tracing it across one descended fang to another. Eric hissed and grasped my hips through the blankets roughly, while grinding his arousal into my thigh. Hhe took over our kiss and began moaning into my mouth as his hips pressed his arousal into me. I was so hot and ready for him, my hands traversed the skin beneath his shirt until I couldn't bear the feel of him clothed. I needed him bare, so I began to strip him of his clothes, one button at a time. As my shaking fingers undressed my lover, I paused.

I didn't discontinue my attentions, but my mind wouldn't let me be in the moment. I was worried about Jason and Amelia….and Dermot. As I thought of my homicidal relative, I shivered. Eric, so attuned to me, knew I wasn't shivering for him.

"Lover," he asked huskily, "What is it?"

I exhaled deeply upon Eric's words. So many thoughts were swarming through my head. Although my body was finely tuned to Eric's touch, my mind was uncontrolled. I was overwhelmed. How do you tell your lover that you'd really like him to make love to you when your mind is worried that your brother is going to jail; that your best friend is being held captive; and that, with the wrong move, one of your only living relatives will succeed in killing you?

As much as I wanted to lose myself in the comfort of Eric's touch, I couldn't. Too much had happened in the last 48 hours. I could tell that Eric knew I was withdrawing away from the pleasure of his touch into the tortured confines of my mind. Through our bond I could feel his concern and his affection, but I tried to force it out. I felt so selfish for seeking pleasures of the flesh while people I loved were in danger. My head began to throb with guilt.

"Eric. I feel so selfish. I'm here with you, safe. You set my body on fire and I want you. But I feel so guilty. I feel like a terrible person because I want you to make love to me. I want to lose myself in you, if only for a moment."

Eric's eyes twinkled and his lips curled up in a half smile. "A moment? Lover you're going to lose yourself in me for much, much longer than a moment." He ground his hips into me, and said, "Let yourself go. This _is_ right. You deserve this. Let go. Yield to me." With that, he recaptured my lips and I let myself go.

**A/N: I know, I'm terribly mean. Don't worry, you'll get your nookie! But, this chapter was already pretty long, so I thought I'd give you something to read while I write the next one. Sorry for the delay in getting this to you. Between trying to sort out the plot and having to work nonstop for the last couple of weeks (darn having to pay the mortgage!), Sookie & Eric have refused to talk to me, if you know what I mean. Thanks to everyone who reviews or adds D&M to your alerts. It makes my day and inspires me to keep this up. Thanks!!!! -Jen **


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just inviting her beloved characters to mop my wood floors; they need it.

Many thanks to murgatroid-98 for getting me to think about the proper use of lemons when it comes to Dermot --- *don't be pervy, you'll see what I mean! Thank you!!!

_Previously ….._

_Eric's eyes twinkled and his lips curled up in a half smile. "A moment? Lover you're going to lose yourself in me for much, much longer than a moment." He ground his hips into me, and said, "Let yourself go. This is right. You deserve this. Let go. Yield to me." With that, he recaptured my lips and I let myself go. _

Eric made quick work of the rest of his clothes and pulled back the sheets, sliding in beside me. In one movement, he curled to his side and pulled me to him, my back against his chest, his cock against my ass, his legs cupped behind mine. Beneath the silky-soft cotton of his sheets we were pressed together, skin to skin, but not yet one. He held me like that, with his face burrowed in my hair, his nose massaging the back of my scalp as it worked its way down to the back of my neck. As his hand swept my hair away from my neck, he licked me from the spot where my shoulder blades met, tasting the skin of my neck until his warm tongue reached the point where my hair began. He tasted me, savored me. The sensation of his tongue slowly working its way up my neck set my nerves on fire and my body knew where it wished his tongue would lick.

With a gentle nudge to my shoulder, he pushed me onto my stomach and I felt his body press upon me, his chest to my back. He leaned his head down to my right ear and whispered, "How do you want your first _moment_ Sookie?" He paused, sucking my earlobe into his mouth, just as he had in my kitchen so few hours before. He released my tender flesh and whispered again, "I will have you tonight." His lips outlined my body from my earlobe, down my jaw, down my neck, to my bare shoulder. I moaned, hoping he wouldn't stop; hoping he'd fuck me already. I was so wet and ready for him.

He paused at my shoulder, swirling his tongue in a lazy figure eight across my skin, raising goosebumps, before returning his mouth to my ear. His talented tongue darted into my ear while his body rose up, putting his weight on his forearms, breaking the connection of our upper bodies as his hips ground his erection between the cheeks of my ass. Lowering his chest onto my back once more, he leaned in and said, "You know you're mine. I'm going to take you and make you scream my name as you come."

His words set me on fire and before I could react, I felt him begin to fill me. His right arm pulled me up so that we were both on our knees and he was able to thrust deeply into me, touching me in places that only he could reach. His left arm joined his right, caressing my breasts, massaging them and pinching my nipples before ghosting down my sides to grip my hips, providing him with all the leverage he needed to thrust into me fiercely.

Needing support, I flung my arms forward, planting my palms against the bedroom wall and using what little strength I had to grind back against him, willing him to go deeper, to consume me, to mark me as his. I met him, thrust for thrust, hoping that this would never end. I could feel my release beginning to build as he increased his pace. My arms were supporting my body as he pounded into me from behind. With each forward motion, he fucked away my fears. Somewhere outside of myself I could hear moaning and a half-whispered chorus repeating the word "more." I knew it was my voice begging for more as my lover vanquished my fears and claimed my body as his own. Just as I was about to reach my peak he withdrew. I whimpered, but only for the moment it took for him to turn me around to face him. His eyes fucked me with passion and he said, "I want to see your eyes when you come."

As soon as my hands grasped his shoulders for support, he grabbed my hips and raised them off the bed as he entered me once again. In that one thrust I felt my nerve endings come alive and I screamed his name as his rotating hips prolonged my peak, causing my flesh to blush and sweat. He rode me through my orgasm, and I could tell he was about to reach his own peak when his head ducked down and his fangs captured my nipple in his mouth. In tandem with a thrust, his fangs pierced my breast and I could feel him quiver and thrust, filling me, as he lapped up the warm blood that spread out from his bite across his waiting lips.

As Eric leisurely closed the wounds he'd made on my breast with his tongue, I felt more relaxed than I had in ages. He burrowed his head into my shoulder as he once again cradled my body into his arms. My eyes were so heavy that I knew I would shortly drift off to sleep….in my lover's arms. As Eric held me, for just this moment, I surrendered and enjoyed the comfort he provided; I relaxed into his arms and drifted off to sleep.

The peace I'd achieved with Eric was interrupted by the violence of my dreams. In sleep, Dermot came to me, and stalked me anew. As I dreamt of my daily routines, Dermot's face interrupted every moment. I would be in my bedroom dressing and Dermot's face reflected behind mine in the mirror. As I rounded the corner from the kitchen at Merlotte's, I would come face to face with Dermot, as he leisurely reclined in a booth in my section, gaping at me, licking his lips. My dream self would approach the table, just like it was any other, and I'd ask him what he wanted to drink. Taking me in with his eyes, not lusting after me sexually but wanting me nonetheless, Dermot would devour me. He would gaze into my eyes and request an iced tea with lemon. Like an automaton, I would turn towards the serving station to acquiesce to his demand. Returning to the dining room, I'd hand him his tea with lemon. Never dropping my gaze, Dermot would take the wedge of lemon between his fingers and would squeeze it, releasing the juice contained in the pulpy flesh. He never hesitated and crushed the lemon as though mocking me. Before bringing the straw that floated in the glass to his lips, he brought his lemon-coated finger between them, sucking as though his fingers were coated in the richest chocolate and he needed desperately to make them clean. As he licked the sour juice off of his fingers, I awoke with a start.

"Fuck!" I shouted, and my arms thrashed about the bed, searching for something, someone, to hold on to. My flailing limbs were unrewarded. I was alone. As soon as my body realized that Eric had left our bed I sat up and my eyes flashed blindly across the room. His absence woke me more completely than an unexpected splash of cold water. My eyes roamed the room and I found myself opening our bond to seek out his presence. I knew he was near, but I also knew he wasn't in the room.

I kicked the covers off of my body and swung my legs down to the floor. I could feel that Eric was near; the hum of our bond that was the background music of my life was strong, as it always was when he was close. Forgetting my nakedness, I made my way to where I remembered the door was located. I lurched like a zombie, in determined steps that paused midstride as I feared walking into a piece of furniture or hitting a wall. With my hands in front of me I finally felt the cold metal of his bedroom's inner door. Running my hands on the cold steel, I traced the outline as my hands sought the doorknob. I fumbled blindly and my hands began to shake as their search for a doorknob went unrewarded. I knew I was starting to panic when my heart began to race and it felt like I was having trouble breathing.

Wide awake now, I knew I needed to regain control of my body; my panic was all in my head, accentuated by my nightmare. I kept repeating "you're safe, he's here, you're safe," over and over in my head as I pressed my forehead against the cool metal door. Before I could calm myself down, I felt the door begin to slide open. In an instant, Eric had me in his arms.

"Sookie, what it is?" he asked gently while pressing his lips to the top of my head. "I could feel your fear and anxiety. What happened?"

I felt like a bit of an idiot for freaking out, but I was unsettled. Between the dream and not being able to leave the room, I'd lost it. I allowed myself to relax into his arms and buried my head into his chest as I said, "I freaked out Eric. I had a horrible dream and when I woke up and you weren't here, I panicked. I knew you were close. I could feel you, but I couldn't get out of the room. I felt so trapped."

Eric released me from his arms, but not before taking my hands in his. He pulled me towards the bed. "Come. Tell me about this dream."

I was starting to feel foolish, but I let him lead me back to bed. Once again, he gently tucked me in, before crawling in beside me. He laid on his side, with his head propped up on one arm as he caressed my arm with his free hand.

I told Eric about my dream. As I detailed my nightmare of Dermot stalking me, Eric's gentle touches on my arm stopped and his fingers froze on my skin. Before I could tell him about Dermot sucking the lemon off his fingers, Eric interrupted me. "Stop." His eyes bored into me, as though he could see straight through to my soul. The intensity of his stare would have made me run and hide just a few years ago, before I knew him so well. It was a look that could kill. "That will never happen. He will never find you. He will never hurt you."

I rolled over onto my back and would have stared at the ceiling if I could see it. "Eric, I know you're trying to make me feel better, but let's face it. He knows too much about me. He's going to find me. I just have to be prepared to face it, and hopefully have a way to survive it."

Eric's arm reached around me and he turned my body to face him. His eyes still burned with the same desire to kill as he said, "He. Will. Never. Find. You."

"What does that mean Eric? Unless I crawl under a rock, Dermot will find me. There is no Witness Protection program for part-Fae running from half-Fae, unless there's something you've been neglecting to tell me. We have to face the facts."

Impossibly, Eric pulled me even closer to his body. "The _fact_," he spat, "that you need to face is that I won't let anything happen to you."

I could see his sincerity in his face and could feel it radiating through the bond. But you can be as sincere as you want in your belief in Santa Claus, but it doesn't mean that a fat man with a beard is going to slide down your chimney on Christmas Eve. "Eric, I know that you mean what you say, and I really do appreciate it. But you can't always be there, even when you want to. You can't be there for me during the day."

I knew it would hurt him to point out his weakness, but it didn't make it any less true. The fact of the matter was that no matter how powerful Eric was, no matter how old, or crafty, he could not protect me from dawn to dusk, and the list of people who could or would protect me during daylight hours was short, and growing shorter by the day. Despite the truth of my words, I wasn't prepared for the wave of hurt I could feel from Eric. He pulled his arm from my body and flopped onto his back. I knew he was angry, but I wasn't sure why. I hadn't said anything that was untrue.

He shifted on the bed, and I could feel him running his hands through his hair in aggravation. He sighed loudly and turned to face me. "You will not be vulnerable in the day. You will be with me."

"Are you joking? You can't seriously believe that I'll agree to that!"

"There is nothing to agree to. The matter is settled."

All of my aggravation from earlier, when Sam and Eric had been involved in their custody battle over me, boiled to the surface and I remembered why it had been so important that I make my list. "Eric, I'm not your fucking puppy! You don't tell me when to eat and where to sleep and where to piss! You are so incredibly high-handed; I can't take it!" In my huff, I sat up abruptly, intending to find my way out of this room. Before my feet could find purchase on the floor my body was flung back onto the bed and Eric was hovering over me.

"No Sookie. You're not going to run away, not tonight and not ever again. You are mine and I will keep you safe."

"Eric, keep me safe. I'm fine with that, but you're not going to lock me in some dungeon somewhere. I have a job…"

"That you were willing to practically quit tonight in order to keep _Sam_ safe."

"Fine, I know I can't go back to Merlotte's, but Jason needs me. Unless I figure things out, he's going to take the fall for Dermot! I can't let that happen!"

"Cataliades and someone from his firm will meet with Jason tomorrow."

I was stunned that Eric had thought to contact Mr. Cataliades about Jason. "I'm glad that you called him. Thank you. Um. Did you, do you know, um, how much something like this will cost?" In my head I was calculating the balance in my savings account and was wishing that the market for real estate in Bon Temps wasn't as bad as I knew it was. One of my regulars was a realtor. Every Tuesday over a Burger Lafayette his thoughts screamed at me about how bad the market was.

Once again, I could feel Eric running his hands in aggravation through his hair before he said in a calm, measured tone, "The bill is taken care of." He paused, before continuing, "And before you accuse me of making you a kept woman, Cataliades is doing this pro bono for you. He feels he owes you for saving Sophie, twice."

Eric was right. I was just about to object and argue that I needed to pay my own way. But if Mr. Cataliades felt like he owed me a debt, then I guess I couldn't argue, and my savings account was rather thin at the moment. I felt myself giving in.

"Fine. I trust Mr. Cataliades to help Jason, but I want to be kept informed. But that still doesn't mean you can lock me in a dungeon during the day."

"Why are you fixated on me locking you in a dungeon?" with a leer in his voice he whispered naughtily, "Is that something you'd like?"

At his words, my heart rushed faster, and not because I wanted to be locked in a dungeon. It was because this moment we were sharing, the two of us, in bed, finally talking, was one of the things I'd treasured most about _my_ Eric. And for now, for this moment, I had him back.

Even though it seemed inappropriate, after all, we'd just been discussing keeping my big brother out of prison, I flirted back. "I suppose it depends on the dungeon. Will you tie me up?"

As soon as the words escaped my lips, I covered my mouth with my hands in shame. I could not believe I'd said that!

I swear Eric growled and pounced on me. He pulled my hands from my lips and devoured me in a kiss that every part of my body felt. Once I was limp in his arms, he broke the kiss and moaned, "Sookie. You kill me." Again he savaged my lips before deserting them for more fruitful pastures. He captured my breast in his mouth and licked and sucked it until playfully nipping at my flesh. With his mouth hovering over my breast he looked me in the eyes and said, "I can't get enough of you. I must have you again." With that, his fangs pierced my flesh and he brought me to orgasm with his bite. Just as I was coming down, I felt him enter me gently. His languid stroke filled me and then slowly withdrew, in and out, in and out, until I was the one urging him to take me harder, faster. As his pace quickened he released my breast and brought his face to mine. Even in the dark of the room, I could see his eyes staring at me. He pulled my hips from the bed and I instinctively locked my legs around his hips as he went deeper. I could feel my climax building again as I tightened around his cock, and with each clench Eric moaned. "Fuck, Sookie. It's so good. It's only this good with you. This is best. You are mine. All mine." With another thrust I could feel him spasm within me and I went over the edge as he filled me completely.

He slumped over me, spent, but he didn't pull out of me. I didn't want him to move. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to spend every waking moment making love to Eric. He kissed my lips and slowly pulled out of me. I groaned at the loss of him. My body felt like jelly and I really needed to pee.

"Is there a bathroom here?"

"Of course." Eric turned away from me and I felt him reaching for something. With a click, he turned on a light that stood on his bedside table.

Opening the door to the bathroom, I felt around for the light switch. When the bathroom was illuminated I gasped at its size. The shower took up the entire left wall, and the glass shower door ran from the floor to ceiling. Charcoal gray slate tile lined every surface except for the ceiling which was covered in antique looking ornamental tin tiles. On the right was a pedestal sink just before the door to the enclosed toilet. I slipped inside and took care of business. Thank goodness Eric had toilet paper. Not a guarantee in all vampire homes.

As I was washing my hands, I fought the urge to open Eric's medicine cabinet and snoop. Amelia had once told me that you could learn a lot about a man based on what you found in his medicine cabinet. At my first thought of Amelia, I froze and stared at my face in the mirror. I was so ashamed of myself. I'd been losing myself in sex without once thinking about my supposed best friend. Staring in the mirror, I berated myself. How could I be so thoughtless? Realizing that the water was still running, I turned off the faucet and left the bathroom.

As I entered the bedroom, I could see Eric sprawled on the bed, his eyes begging me to come hither. I felt my nakedness and it seemed so wrong. Covering my breasts with my arm, I said one word, "Amelia."

Eric's face lost its randy smirk and became serious. He pulled the blankets to cover himself, but kept them up and open to me. "Sookie, come here. We need to talk."

**A/N: Hmmm, What has Eric learned about Amelia? Stay tuned! Thank you for reading this. It thrills me beyond words! -Jen**


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just inviting her beloved characters to unload my dishwasher, because someone has to do it.

_Previously ….._

_As I entered the bedroom, I could see Eric sprawled on the bed, his eyes begging me to come hither. I felt my nakedness and it seemed so wrong. Covering my breasts with my arm, I said one word, "Amelia."_

_Eric's face lost its randy smirk and became serious. He pulled the blankets to cover himself, but kept them up and open to me. "Sookie, come here. We need to talk."_

My body moved before my brain could protest. I wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath Eric's soft sheets to seek the comfort of his body, once again. As I surrendered and crumbled onto the bed, I felt Eric's strong arms reach around me to envelope me within the warmth of his blankets. Once I was covered, his arm snaked beneath them to pull me towards him, so that we were eye to eye.

I wrapped my arm around his back, instinctively needing his comfort before saying, "Just tell me. I need to know."

Eric's eyes never moved from mine as he said, "I made some calls. She hasn't been to see her father, and she hasn't been seen at her home. But Sookie…"

That Eric had paused, that he couldn't finish his sentence, made me fear the worst. I could feel the cold flames of panic beginning to lap at my heart as I forced my eyes to hold Eric's gaze. I took a deep breath and begged, "Tell me."

"We found her car, just outside of New Orleans, off of Highway 59. Her keys were still in her car, but her keychain was missing, as were her bags. There was no sign of her."

I knew I was going to throw up. I couldn't mistake the violent tremors that began in my stomach for anything else. I bounded out of the bed and ran for the bathroom, staggering into the solitary space that housed the toilet. I let my body take over and retched. When my body was spent, my legs weakly surrendered and I felt my body lowering onto Eric's pristine slate tile floor. I couldn't remember the last time I'd hugged a toilet without the influence of alcohol. When my forehead came to rest on the white porcelain, I reveled in its sterility and the harsh coldness the contact brought me. Every time I closed my eyes, Amelia's face flashed before my eyes. After all of the pain I'd caused her by essentially killing Tray, I couldn't believe that she herself had come to harm. I couldn't stomach it, and that sent me, once again, to embrace the cold comfort retching over the empty bowl provided.

As the dry heaves racked and seized my body, I felt large hands run through my hair, gently pulling it away from my face. I could feel Eric behind me, so close, but not touching my body as his hands held my hair away from my face. Despite our circumstance, I was so grateful that he was there. My stomach began to calm, and I thought I was ready to resume our conversation.

Turning towards him, I shifted on the floor and looked at his face. His naked concern for me cut through me like a knife and shocked me. I was always ready for the Eric that wanted to fuck me. I was always ready for the Eric that wanted to use me to his advantage. I was neither ready nor prepared for the Eric that was willing to hold my hair back while I puked in his toilet. His kindness overwhelmed me and I was unable to tamp down my instinct to run. Pushing myself up onto my feet, I tried to ignore him as I fled the bathroom. I was midway through pulling my pants over my legs when I felt his arms around me.

"Sookie. I told you I wouldn't let you run and I meant it." As he spoke, his arms tightened their hold on my body and he brought his lips to my neck. "You cannot always run away. Not anymore."

How fucked up am I that this melted my heart? Moments ago I was puking over Eric's revelations about Amelia, but once his arms wrapped around me and he whispered into my ear, I was willing to listen to whatever it was that Eric had to say. I knew what he meant about running; this had been an issue between us for longer than I wanted to admit, but it just felt wrong to give in so easily.

I needed to find Amelia, and he knew it.

Knowing I would regret it, I wrenched my body from his tempting arms and stood before him, no longer touching him, as though breaking our physical contact would somehow bring me clarity. "How do we find her?" My body clenched and I knew that sobs were imminent. Taking a deep breath and forcing my sobs to retreat I said, "Amelia is my only true friend. I have to find her. I can't let her be hurt because of me." I looked into his eyes and said, "She's my Pam, Eric. I can't make it work without her." With that, my resolve faltered, and I allowed Eric to once again pull me into his arms and allowed his determination and strength to flow through me via our tangled, troubled bond.

As Eric swept me into his arms again, he whispered into my ear, "I know that Amelia matters. I understand. I know how lonely you were before her."

I felt so raw. Admitting to Eric that before Amelia I'd never truly had a real friend seemed so much more revealing than stripping my body nude before him. How was it possible that I was so comfortable with him knowing me intimately, but I was afraid of him knowing the truth about me? How could I reveal the truth that other than Amelia, Gran was the only human who had ever _really_ known me and had ever truly loved me unconditionally? I wasn't kidding when I said that Amelia was my Pam. I knew what Eric's bond to Pam was, and I really felt that the way I felt about Amelia was similar to how Eric felt about Pam.

Despite all of that, I knew, beyond my fear for Amelia's well-being, was my fear of what my life would be without her. Before her, I'd never had a best friend. I'd never had a sister, and as of now, she was lost to me. I was terrified, for so many reasons. I was so frightened of what was happening to her, and I was horrified that whatever torture Amelia had to endure was the direct result of her friendship with me, Sookie Stackhouse. I was to blame. Before I came into her life, Amelia was safe.

With that thought, I felt my body go limp in Eric's arms. He didn't miss a beat as he cradled me in his arms and returned my body to our bed. As he nestled me beneath the sheets once again, I found myself lying on my side and facing him. For the first time, Eric wasn't looking me in the eye, and I knew he was hiding something from me. Reeling from my assumed loss of Amelia, I knew that I couldn't take it if Eric chose to hide from me. I brought my hands to cup his face and glared into his eyes. "Tell me," I demanded.

Eric caressed my body with such intensity it felt as though each touch of his fingers was trying to memorize my body; as though this was the last time he would be able to touch me. Eric's reverence increased my fear.

I repeated my demand. "Tell me."

Eric placed his hands along my back and pulled my body into his. As our flesh touched, I felt such relief, such comfort, that I didn't understand the intensity I felt coursing through his touch.

He smoothed my hair and cupped the cheeks of my face in his hands. As he leaned his face towards mine and captured my lips in a kiss that set my body on fire, I knew that there was something he was concealing from me, something he would tell me after he had this last kiss, this last _moment_. As our lips moved together I could feel and taste his regret; something I'd never felt from him before.

Shocked, I pulled my lips from his, and looked into his eyes. I ran my hands down his back as I whispered, "Tell me."

He groaned and pressed his face into the nook between my shoulder and my neck. His hesitation was so unexpected, I couldn't determine my feelings…they flitted from one emotion to another, and I felt lost without clear direction from _him_. I sank into the bed as I realized how much I relied on Eric for guidance. Whether I listened to him or not, I needed to know what he thought. That he seemed to be so unwilling to tell me everything he knew about Amelia fanned the flames of fear that seemed about to consume us both.

He stilled completely before saying, "I know who has Amelia, but I don't know why."

Mimicking Eric, I stilled my body and waited for him to speak. So many thoughts were running through my mind I internally willed my it to be still, like my body, so that I could learn the fate of the one woman who'd proven again and again that she was my friend.

With his silence, it wasn't surprising that my body betrayed my mind and I shivered in Eric's embrace, no longer comfortable having his arms around me. As he felt me withdraw, Eric's arms refused to let me retreat. Instinctively he knew I wanted to run, and he was right. I wanted nothing more than to flee, but I couldn't. Despite the feeling of betrayal that was beginning to replace the embers of fear that had licked against my skin just moments ago, I knew that I needed Eric, and that I couldn't run away, not now. For a moment, I wasn't sure what made me more afraid – my need for Eric or the knowledge that I'd never save Amelia without him.

He knew who had her.

He had known that she wasn't OK for some time, perhaps hours. Perhaps he'd learned about her circumstances when he'd been out of the room. But that meant that Eric had known that Amelia wasn't safe when he'd made love to me _moments_ ago, and that thought made me feel sick again. I felt like our union was tainted, because he'd kept this knowledge from me.

Ever since he'd voiced that he knew who had Amelia, Eric had refused to let my eyes stray from his. While my mind had wandered, it was clear that he was focused entirely on me. My silent stare begged for him to share with me, to tell me everything he knew. Obviously our eye to eye communication was not revealing the details that mattered and verbal communication was required. And verbal communication had never been our strength.

But why hadn't Eric revealed what he knew? I couldn't fathom why there'd be any reason to prevent me from knowing what was happening with Amelia. As such, I asked my lover to disclose all he knew.

"Eric. She's my best friend. Tell me what you know, please."

Eric sighed, and as he ran his hand down from my shoulder to my hand and back up again, I noticed that his eyes seemed conflicted.

As Eric gently touched my body, once again memorizing my form, I asked, "What do you not want to tell me Eric? You can't do this. You can't keep secrets from me, not now. Things are too dangerous for me not to know everything."

Eric rolled onto his back and brought both of his hands to his face to rub his eyes and then his temples. Without looking at me he said, "Things are too dangerous for me to tell you things that I cannot confirm or things that I know will spur you to act rashly. I'm gathering information and when I know more, I will tell you what you need to know. There is nothing you can do for her tonight."

I was definitely starting to get pissed off. I sat up and stared down at Eric. The grimace on his face told me that he could feel me starting to anger, and he knew an argument was coming. "Whether or not I can physically do anything to help Amelia tonight is beside the point. You have to tell me everything you know or everything you suspect. I can't handle not knowing." I closed my eyes and imagined the terrible things that could be happening to my friend, while I was powerless to help her. Barely speaking above a whisper I said, "Eric, it's killing me not knowing. I keep imagining the most horrible things. You have to tell me what you know. Please, I'm…I'm begging you. … If you love me at all, you'll tell me."

Eric sat and faced me. The emotion pouring through the bond overwhelmed me. I could feel his love and sadness and … fear? Sensing that he was afraid of something chilled me to the bone, and my fear didn't ease when his hands began to stroke me from my collarbone, across my shoulders, down my arms, stopping only when his hands enclosed mine. Eric brought my hands to his face and breathed into them deeply. Kissing my fingertips lightly, he turned my hand and brought my wrist to his lips. Pressing a gentle kiss on my wrist he murmured, "If only you knew what you were asking of me. If only you knew."

I pulled my hands free of his grasp and placed them on either side of his face, forcing him to look me in the eyes. "I'll only know if you tell me Eric. You have to trust me."

He smiled sadly and said, "Therein lies the problem. Trust. You've never trusted in me. You've never believed that every action I take is to protect you."

He was both right and wrong. I'd let myself trust him many times over, but I knew that those times coincided with the many moments I'd been in either physical danger or extreme pain. He'd manipulated me into taking his blood and he'd tried for so long to manipulate me into his bed. While he saved me from Andre, he also forced me into the connection that I loved and hated. He'd tricked me into presenting him with the ceremonial knife in the presence of Victor, sealing my fate and bonding me to him in the vampire way. Trust for us was never easy, but I found myself wanting to try.

"Eric…this is hard for me. I trust you to keep me safe, to protect me. But I also know that you're not afraid to use me to further your own agenda. For so long, you've considered me one of your _assets_, like I'm a trick pony in your circus. That makes trust difficult." At my words, Eric's eyes clouded with anger. Before he could speak, I continued, "But I…. I want to try. I want to try and trust you. Last night you told me you loved me, and I believed you. I love you too. I have for some time. But that doesn't erase the past; we have so much to work through." I paused, waiting for some response from him. His eyes were no longer angry, but they appraised me and seemed to be evaluating, calculating something that eluded me. "I want to trust you Eric, but if you don't tell me everything that you know about Amelia, that will be impossible."

With those words, I knew I'd laid down the gauntlet, but it needed to be said. I could think of no rational reason Eric could possibly have for withholding information about Amelia from me.

Eric's eyes continued to appraise me, and I could see and feel that he was struggling with himself.

"Why can't you just tell me? What harm could possibly come from my knowing what you know about Amelia?"

With that, Eric unleashed the tension he'd been holding in with a volley of words that washed over me with their pent up aggression and torment. "What harm?" he shouted, "I will lose you Sookie! You may not die, but if you're lucky you'll spend the rest of your days as nothing but a slave and that will not happen! I will not save Amelia only to sacrifice you." His grasp on my shoulders tightened and he pulled my body into his, crushing me with his embrace.

"There has to be another way Eric. Everything's not black and white. I don't understand how what has happened to Amelia could hurt me. I don't understand. You have to tell me." My words conveyed more force than I really felt. I was confused and hurt and frightened by Eric's words. As he well knew, one of my greatest fears was losing control of my life, of being under the thumb of others; it didn't matter if that was the FBI or the head vampires from some other state. Eric's hands started to massage gentle circles of reassurance on my shoulders. Pulling away from his chest, I sought his eyes as he began to speak.

"We've been brought into a dangerous game Sookie, and, if what I believe is true, Dermot has played his hand well. He understands you deeply, and I don't understand how it is possible. I know that this doesn't make sense, but it seems like his every move is calculated to hurt you and to drive you to expose yourself so that you will be easy to kill."

"Eric, I know that Dermot is dangerous, and I know he's trying to hurt me. Don't you understand? It's working! I don't care if he hurts me, but if he's hurting Jason or Amelia or anyone because of me, we have to stop him; we have to help her. If you know where she is, we have to go to her!"

"And that is why that filth knows you so well. He knew you'd be unable to resist helping her. Jason was just a distraction and easy prey for one such as him."

Eric continued to try and distract me with his touch, but I was too focused. "Stop the games and the manipulation and the plotting and the planning and tell me what the fuck is going on! Where is Amelia? What is the point of your talk of trust if you refuse to tell me what you know about my best friend?" I knew it was time to play dirty, so I said, "How would you feel if Pam was missing and I refused to tell you what I know?"

At my words, Eric's hands stilled. His piercing blue eyes bored into mine as he once again appraised me, his hands still clutching my hips, but his fingers no longer moving. When he spoke, his voice was low, and it seemed like each word that escaped his lips was the result of great effort. "After one of my associates found the car, Pam called the old witch and asked her to weave her magic to locate Amelia."

I knew that Eric was speaking of Octavia. I nodded to him, silently acknowledging the effort it was taking for him to tell me what he knew. My silence encouraged him to continue.

"Her spell was able to locate Amelia's general location. Once the old one provided P with the general area, I could easily guess…."

As his words stopped I recaptured his gaze in mine and my hands involuntarily found his. Clutching his hands in mine I said, "Finish it."

Eric continued to struggle with his words; it seemed like he was fighting against himself, as though telling me what he knew was going against every one of his instincts.

"Based on her general location, I know who has Amelia, and it doesn't take much imagination to know what it means."

He stopped again, and it was torture. This silence between us, the fear I could sense from him, increased my anxiety as once again I waited for him to continue.

"The place the old witch found includes the compound where the new Sheriff of New Orleans has established himself." My blood chilled as Eric continued. "I believe she is with Victor."

**A/N: Thoughts? *runs and hides* By the way, if my emo-ness is driving you to need a fun release, read Yogagal's fun new story, Tense and Release: www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/5378639/1/Tense_Release – it's a blast and there's nothing better than Eric in a yoga class. Yum. **


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